Salve, Salvage, & Salvation
by SectumSemprae
Summary: Danielle had never wanted to be one of Zsasz's victims. How will she survive when the madman seems bound and determined to obtain her mark? Possibly ZsaszXOC
1. Prologue

- - - - - Prologue - - - - -

She managed to move in time just as a knife went whizzing by her back. Whoever it was had some nerve to attack her. She had had a long night, after stealing some jewels from a private exhibit, one that was secretly being patronized by none other than Two-Face, or Harv. She honestly didn't know or care why he was taking an interest in jewelry, but she hadn't forgiven him for giving away half her loot to his lecherous gang four months ago. Payback time!

So she had gotten in, almost gotten away unscathed, until a strong wind had blown a leaf in through the glass roof pane she'd left open. A _leaf._ Then next thing you know, sirens are blaring, you're running harder than usual and racing across the rooftop while the cops arrive within minutes at the gallery, and you're trying to get away unseen. Not surprising their alarms were so sensitive, with the size of these rocks. She had gotten away though, moving in shadow when the cops weren't looking, and she was now several blocks away and victorious, even though her stamina was a little shot. No worries.

…Until this loser, whoever he was, decided to make a play at skinning her? He was going to regret it. Catwoman – aka Selina Kyle – turned to look at who could be so foolish as to attack her. She got quite a shock.

"Mr. Zsasz. What the hell do you want?"

"What I want is simple," the Butcher replied. "I am here to offer you my gift." He was, as per usual, shirtless, and his scars gleamed in the orange streetlights. He had followed her from the gallery, not one to miss opportunities, as he had never yet managed to acquire her mark. It was past dark, way past Gotham's bedtime, and this was when Arkham came out to play. Catwoman had seen all sorts of fellow rogues in the night. Unfortunately, Zsasz was one of the ones she never wanted to see.

"Does your gift have a return policy?" she quipped.

"...So pointless to delay the inevitable." It creeped her out when he talked like this. "I need your mark, Cat! I want it!"

Zsasz had a very large knife, as well as several smaller ones. She guessed the smaller ones were for throwing – judging by the size of the one that had nearly embedded itself in her spine. It lay harmlessly on the ground to her left for the moment. She swerved in her boots to face him fully.

"My mark? Oh, that's rich. You, take on me?" She took out her bolas and almost casually began to swing them. "C'mon."

Zsasz wasted no time in charging her, knife outstretched, and Catwoman barely dodged. Mentally she cursed. She had forgotten about his speed. She released the bolas, and Zsasz dodged them in turn, knife still outstretched. He looked manic.

She just barely managed to move out of the way when he came at her with three quick swipes. One caught on the leather of her outfit, but just a glance, and then she was holding his arm still, throwing a quick knee into his face, and moving back again on the defensive.

"You fight so well, Cat." She flinched at his sneering voice. "So very well for an existence of stealing and looting, looting and stealing. What kind of life can you call that?"

"Before you begin, stop with the cure bullshit, I don't want to be 'liberated' or whatever creepy thing you call it!" Catwoman hissed. Briefly a morbid thought passed through her head as she wondered how he would pose her if – IF – he ever managed to kill her.

She wondered if Batman would find her.

Zsasz's voice grew even higher. "I am offering you a gift, one of salvation! I can paint the walls right here with your crimson blood! I will save you from a life filled with fear of what would happen to your life without your precious robbing. One of coming home to your cats but never a person, always alone…"

"Oh please!" she said, and as Zsasz charged her again, she threw caltrops on the ground. Zsasz groaned as he tripped on one, pulling the offending steel out of his foot and backing up, but quickly came up with a handful of throwing knives, which he wasted no time in unleashing toward Catwoman.

She just barely dodged the knives. As it was, one nicked her across the back, slashing through her costume and drew blood. She hissed silently but didn't let him see her react.

When she turned, he was already on his feet, with two large knives this time. She purred.

"Ooh, nice, wanna see mine?"

Zsasz saw a blur as she lunged out. He felt the wind as her clawed fingertips barely grazed his nose. Just a scratch.

Catwoman twirled, advancing forward with each spin, leading with her clawed hands. Zsasz was moving backward fluidly, out of reach of her attacks, though some came close. He moved to the other side of the caltrops. If she wanted to follow she might trip on them herself and be at his mercy. Either way, no matter, she would die. He still had more throwing knives.

"I am going to bleed you, piggy!" he snarled. "I need it! I need your mark!" He brandished a knife and aimed.

"Oooh, you think that distance will disadvantage me?" Catwoman cooed, and then she struck.

Her whip, her most famous weapon. Why didn't Zsasz anticipate this? The Cat was tricky. Her first blow scratched his wrist, making him drop the knife with a cry of pain. The whip sang through the air, slashing across his forehead. "Oh-h, did I mess up your body count?"

Zsasz was furious. "You- you bitch! I was saving that spot!" Blood dripped into his eyes, and he covered his face. When he removed his hands, covered with his own blood, the look in his eyes was murderous. Catwoman snarled and prepared to pounce – when the blaring of sirens came suddenly and very close.

In another sudden mood swing, Catwoman coyly blew him a kiss. "Sorry, Zsasz, a girl's gotta run! It's been a blast!"

The Butcher turned to deliver the feline a feral gaze. "We'll settle this later, piggy!" When he realized he was talking to air, he made an angry sound.

Once she got far enough away on the rooftops, the cocky catburgler stopped suddenly and rubbed her leather-clad arms, as though brushing away cold. "Mannn, Mr. Zsasz gives me the creeps!" she whispered to herself. "Time for a long _hot_ shower and a good night's sleep!" And with that, her whip cracked and she disappeared into the night.

Furious, Zsasz looked for a nearby home. He wasn't picky; it didn't matter to him if there were people in there or not. He just needed something to stop the bleeding and hopefully stop the scarring as well.

He found a nearby apartment, not shabby-looking at all. It happened to be empty. Well, the residents were in for a surprise when they came home.

Zsasz found the Neosporin in their bathroom without much trouble and, after washing off the blood, swabbed the ointment all over his forehead – all over the mark he didn't make. _Damn that cat!_ He was saving this mark, for someone special…

The Catwoman had better hope that the mark her whip made would disappear. Otherwise he would have to collect on that mark …and if he couldn't kill the Batman himself, then what better way than skinning a certain cat?

-0-

_A/N: I've heard that in the comics his "special spot" for Batman is under one of his eyelids. Given his graphic design in the video game, I'm making it his forehead here, because it seems that's where they were going._

_Props to all the Zsasz writers here. The world needs more Zsasz stories! :D_


	2. Chapter 1

- - - - - Chapter One - - - - -

_God, he's good-looking… But he'd never go for me._

Danielle stepped outside into the cool spring night air and sighed. She had just finished her shift at the hospital, where she worked in the records department. She had seen the object of her affections, Matthew, one of the surgeon nurses. She could have sworn he smiled at her, but it was hard to tell, since he was rushing somewhere. Wearily, she slung her purse over her shoulder. _Time to go home, another day is done,_ she thought.

Danielle had been a file monkey at Arkham Asylum for two years, just before the Joker's hostile takeover. It had been a surprisingly mellow job, since she never saw any of the super-criminals, situated as she was in Arkham Mansion. She had been working at Gotham General Hospital ever since. It was a fairly monotonous job, but she liked it.

"Too bad I'm not tougher," she mumbled to herself. "I'd make a fantastic doctor if I could stomach all the bodily fluids."

As Danielle walked home, she took in the scenery around her. It was nothing special, drab colors to a drab, albeit scary city. Almost depressing. A few months ago her apartment in Downtown Gotham had burned down; Firefly had been on a rampage that night. Luckily several new neighborhoods had opened up when Arkham City was torn down, and she lived there now.

Her new neighborhood was not the nicest. It wasn't as bad as Park Row, which had also been reopened since Arkham City was wiped out. She lived in the newly reopened Bowery, one of the many "old Gotham" neighborhoods that had been assimilated to create the encampment. It wasn't a bad place at all, in fact the rent was much cheaper, although, you had to be extra-careful at night. Many criminals were reported still running loose. She lived in an apartment building near where the containment wall had once stood. Now it was gone, though the Sprang River still separated that part of Gotham, as it always had. She usually crossed a bridge to get home - the same bridge that once led into Arkham City.

A few blocks away from her apartment, within "Old Arkham City", was Cyrus Pinkney's Institute for Natural History, also known as "the museum", though it was still closed after Penguin had used it for his personal torture museum. Across the bridge and a few blocks away from her work, nestled in amongst the skyscrapers, was the beautiful Xayne Botanical Garden, where she always meant to visit but never quite got to it. And much closer to her work, right on her path home, was a small park where she sometimes took her lunch breaks. From her work in Midtown Gotham to her home in Old Arkham City, it was about a ten block walk. Not bad, certainly closer than her old apartment, but not a place you wanted to dawdle at night.

Danielle pulled her jacket tighter around her frame as she walked.

As she passed the small park, she thought she heard mumbling. A man's voice. She turned to look.

In the center of the park, a man with no shirt on was pulling two people onto one of the park benches. What was he doing? Was there something wrong with them? _Why was he dragging them to the bench, they should lie down on the ground if they're hurt._ Danielle was about to call out and come forward, but something wasn't right. On first glance the two people looked unconscious… until she saw the woman's head fall so far back it looked like it was almost coming off. She nearly screamed. Danielle knew then that they were dead; both their heads lolled, and there was a suspicious black sheen on the pavement. _Blood._

What was she witnessing? She felt her stomach drop suddenly.

The man seemed to be whispering to himself, or perhaps to the corpses, as he leaned over them and propped them up like large ragdolls. The dead man's head was positioned against the dead woman's, as if cuddling under the cold moonlight. They looked like a couple. God, they were young. A young blonde woman with pale skin and a book bag, maybe a college student, and a young man about her same age with messy brown hair. What- what was this creep doing to them?

"Hey!" she wanted to yell, but the words were stuck in her throat.

The man stood up. It felt like there was something very familiar about this crime scene – she had no doubt now what she was witnessing – but she couldn't place why. She caught sight of a large tattoo on the man's back. A praying woman, surrounded by feathers, though the feathers looked like knives. The man raised something to his forearm while she continued to admire the tribal-looking tattoo. She gasped as she noticed the same tattoo, only smaller, was on the back of the crazy man's shaved head. At the sound of her gasping, the man turned to look at her.

Terrifying blue eyes, and a mouth turned into a smirk. Four large scars on his forehead. Strong, muscular shoulders with wiry arms. _Blood splattered all over him._ She knew this man was dangerous, knew she should know who he was, but she couldn't for the life of her remember his name.

"Hello, little zombie!" he called out. "Come to admire my work?"

She flinched at his chilling voice. "You're from Arkham, aren't you?" she demanded.

"And here, I thought you staff were obsessed with our infamy, wondering which of us you could cure. Well, I am the cure, little intern! Yes, I remember you perfectly, keeping the records so perfect, doing your job, doing your mundane little job."

Danielle knew she was in serious trouble. As the man approached her, the streetlamp revealed more of him, and her heart leaped in her chest. There were scratches all over his body – _tallies_ all over his skin – and two fresh ones, just below the crook of his forearm. She knew who he was suddenly.

"You're Victor Zsasz!"

"Aren't you the clever little piggy!"

She ran. She could hear the madman behind her. "Don't you want me to cure you of your mundane life, little intern? I will cure you from the curse of life!"

"Leave me alone!" she screamed fruitlessly. She knew who he was. She remembered filing the incident reports the doctors made when he made new scars, new _marks_. Why the hell wasn't he in Blackgate right now, where the other super-criminals were? How did _he_ know who _she_ was?

"Just give in!" he called. "I am your salvation!"

Where to run? Where to run? She wanted to go home. But home was still eight blocks away. Zsasz would catch up to her before then. She could hear him breathing heavily as he got closer.

She darted to the right suddenly, down a different street. Bright green lights caught her attention. A pub!

Gasping for breath, she dashed in the door, hoping Zsasz wouldn't follow her. He didn't. But then she found herself with a room full of half-drunk men, staring at her sudden intrusion.

Zsasz himself stopped right outside the pub and caught his breath, leaning against the bricks of the corner of the building. He knew he was close to the Bowery, and that was one neighborhood he loathed to enter. The museum was there – the Iceberg Lounge was there. The place where he lost everything. He wondered if that fat midget was still running his poker table there. A disgusted sneer creased his face.

Maybe someday he would collect his mark too.

But revenge wasn't the point of these marks. The Batman was the only true revenge he could allow himself – Batman was the ticket to his own salvation. Once he made the mark for the Batman, he could allow a river of blood to flow from his body, blessing him with oblivion and an end to his pain.

This zombie, the one who ran away, was only delaying the inevitable. He never forgot a face. He remembered clearly, seeing her and the others scurrying around the Asylum, doing their work, mindless zombies, hoping for a cure, and he wanted to liberate each and every one of them from their sickening existence. Everyone, not just the doctors. She should consider it a blessing he ran into her tonight, but instead she ran. He sighed.

He guessed he had done enough liberating for one night. The couple was resting peacefully now. He had been in a foul mood since the Cat had outsmarted him a few nights ago – luckily the un-mark had healed without scarring - but for now, he felt elated. The new marks in his skin saw to that.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Yay! Guest No. 123, thank you for my first review! :D Made me smile! :)

- - - - - Chapter Two - - - - -

"Hey, you're Danielle, right?"

The file monkey stopped at the sound of her name and turned slowly. She tried not to blush. "Yes... You're Matthew. We ran into each other yesterday, didn't we?"

"Yeah," he smiled handsomely. "Anyway, I just wanted to make sure I remembered your name. Maybe I'll see you around?"

"Yes! S-sounds good!" she tripped over her words. "I'll see you around!"

The handsome nurse left, and it was all she could do not to melt into a puddle on the ground. She stood leaning against the doorframe for a second, repeating his words in her head.

It had been three days since Danielle's run-in with Zsasz. For the first day she'd been terrified he somehow followed her home, and it made sleep difficult. Now, she felt relatively safe. He hadn't attacked her. He hadn't followed her. She'd gotten away. Though she felt sick to know he was out roaming the city somewhere.

She had called the police of course. They had sent out an Officer Montoya to take her statement. The only things she could tell the officer were where she had seen the criminal, where she had finally managed to lose him… and where the bodies of the young couple were.

In those three days, she'd researched him as much as possible, asking the police questions, looking into old newspaper articles, even calling up the new head of the Asylum to ask a thing or two – all the while kicking herself for not paying closer attention when she worked at the Asylum. Granted it was a while ago, but still… What was it about Gotham that attracted so many criminals, she wondered. Since her encounter with Zsasz, she had begun to wonder about the others who frequented Gotham's population and the news.

She passed the park quickly, not wanting to look at the place where the bodies had once lain. A few blocks later she reached the bridge and here she slowed, looking down as she moved. The cold grey Sprang River flowed beneath her feet. Across the bridge, a pile of rubble lay where Wonder Tower had once stood. In her research, she had found out that Zsasz had killed a number of fellow inmates while Arkham City was active. She looked pensively at the rubble for a moment. Why hadn't they stopped him?

So now she knew more about him, more about Mr. Zsasz, or the Butcher. Body count was important to him, and that was all. He saw himself as a liberator, and he was liberating as many people as possible from their mundane existences. He saw everyone as zombies, just waiting for his mark. And she found out that it was a common practice of his to prop the bodies of his victims up into lifelike poses – as she had seen with her very own eyes – and then carve a mark into himself for each victim. She wondered if he could remember every kill he'd made and which scar marked each victim. She couldn't get his high, chilling voice out of her head.

It was just a close call, that's all it was. The police assured her they were having someone look into it, Zsasz would be re-imprisoned before too long (they were almost finished repairing Arkham Asylum on the island, and word had it they had remade some of the old cells to be much more durable), and on top of that, she was now sure Matthew had been eyeing her lately. He was on her mind the whole way home. She could just fall into his dreamy blue eyes and black hair and dazzling smile. She wondered if he would want to eat lunch with her tomorrow, if she were brave enough to ask.

She paused as she looked at her feet. Here was where the containment wall had once stood. She could see the slightly raised ground, left over from the tar that had glued the cement wall to the Earth. It always felt like stepping over an invisible line, into danger, even though it had not been Arkham City in four months. _Because the Batman put a stop to it,_ she thought.

"Good thing too," she muttered to herself. "If he hadn't, who knows – maybe those criminals would have found a way to the other side eventually. Then Gotham wouldn't have been safe for anyone." She wondered briefly what Batman looked like beneath his mask. Was he as handsome as Matthew? A small blush made its way to her cheeks.

She walked the remaining blocks home, turned the two latches. Of course there was no one there. No Zsasz, nobody else in her small apartment. She shivered – had she left that window ajar last night? It was colder today than it was yesterday. She lay down on her bed, breathing in and out for a moment, wondering what was for dinner. Deciding on spaghetti, she reached over and pulled her cassette player close to her, held up the first cassette with a smile, and stuck it in the player.

Haunting music came from the zombie's apartment. He wasn't yet at the vantage point he needed to see her, but he could hear the piano, a ghostly melancholic sound. Could she play the piano, had he somehow missed such a large instrument when he visited her home yesterday? The thought was quickly corrected when he heard a male's scratchy voice sing – ahh, a recording. And he could make out the words to the music.

_All around me are familiar faces, worn out places, worn out faces…_

_Bright and early for the daily races, going nowhere, going nowhere…_

Zsasz shuddered. It described his own mundane existence so well – the way his life was until that one fateful moment on Sprang Bridge, when the homeless man had revealed himself to him. That was where he gained his purpose in life. How could he have guessed that this boring intern would see it the same way? Oh, this piggy was just begging to be slaughtered. He couldn't think of a clearer sign. She would thank him.

_And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad_

_The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had_

Such lyrics! He wondered if this were true of her too. Did she dream of this? Why had she run then? Was she just afraid to accept the truth? Did she feel unworthy of his gift? She knew who he was.

It had been no great feat to follow her home one day after watching her complete her shift at the hospital. He guessed correctly that this was where she worked; after all, where would she have gone after Arkham? And from where would she have been coming on the night he saw her? Gotham General was just a couple short blocks away from that park where he'd left the couple's bodies. Yes, it had been easy finding her, following her. He had noticed that blank look on her face as she mindlessly ambled along the streets, making a straight and narrow beeline down her straight and narrow life. Nothing exciting ever happened to her, had it? Just like all the others. Well, he could make something happen for her. She was worthy of his gift. This boring intern, doing nothing but staring at her papers all day, not even interacting with anyone!... And then coming home, merely _listening_ to songs about misery and salvation… Yes, she must be one of the most worthy of all! His skin itched for her mark.

He slipped down and began to make his way to her apartment.

_Knock! Knock!_ Danielle opened her eyes. Funny, she thought, she hadn't remembered planning on company today. She turned off her music. "Who is it?" she called.

No answer. _Knockknockknockknockknock!_

"Who is it?" she called again, more loudly.

Again, there was no answer over the incessant knocking.

"I'm not answering until you say who you are!" she yelled.

The knocking did not cease. It was getting to her. Ignoring the dread in her stomach, she leaped across her bed, opened the locks, and threw the door open. "What?!"

Almost immediately she was thrown backward. Terror mounted in her when she looked up into the cold eyes of Victor Zsasz. A terrified sound came out of her throat. "Oh my god!"

Zsasz raised his eyebrows, but the fearsome look remained on his face. "Hello, little piggy," he said softly.

"You've-you've come to kill me," she whispered hoarsely, terrified. Why couldn't she make her voice work? Intuitively, her hands grasped her neck protectively.

"I heard your music. I would consider it an honor to save you." Zsasz closed the door behind himself, brandishing his large knife.

"Save me?" she was confused.

"Your music made it so clear what you're wanting. I am here to offer it to you."

It took her a moment, and when it hit her, she nearly kicked herself. Of all the songs she could play, she _had_ to play Gary Jules' version of "Mad World" while a homicidal "liberating" maniac was outside her home. She recalled the lyrics: "going nowhere, going nowhere." Of course. He thought she was sad about her "mundane existence", when really she'd just wanted to listen to the piano.

He read her face clearly. She was having second thoughts. He had to act quickly.

He grabbed her shoulder. So fast! The knife was already at her neck. She rolled backward to avoid him, scrambled to her feet, and backed away into the wall.

Zsasz was in front of her, no longer chatty. His knife was raised and he was glaring at her. _No!_ she thought. Could she get to the bathroom and lock herself in? Almost as though reading her thoughts, Zsasz intercepted her when she darted, putting himself between her and the small room. He was cornering her in her "living room", in the area between the couch and the mantle place. In seconds, she would be dead, her blood would paint the living room-

She grabbed a vase off the mantle and threw it. Zsasz dodged, and the vase shattered, and dust and ashes filled the room. Her grandmother's ashes to be precise. She could hear Zsasz coughing. She had to get away from him! She ran to the window and heard his footsteps follow. A glimpse of the dead couple flashed before her eyes, and without thinking she hurled herself through the window, shattering the glass and plummeting to the street below. She only lived one story up, but disoriented, she wasn't able to catch herself in time. She landed hard on her back and then lay still.

Zsasz heard a commotion begin outside. He knew they would be calling the police soon. He had to make himself scarce.

He took one more look at the girl who lay below. She looked like an angel lying there, all dead, with blood and glass surrounding her, in the middle of the intersection her apartment overlooked. She was finally free. He couldn't mark his skin with her because he hadn't killed her. She had thrown herself out of a window rather than allow him to liberate her. Did she mean to liberate herself?


	4. Chapter 3

- - - - - Chapter Three - - - - -

Danielle awoke to the beeping of a monitor. She was alive. Barely. She tried to turn her head and discovered she couldn't.

For what seemed like hours she lay there in silent terror. She was in a hospital, she hoped. She could smell rubbing alcohol and other sterilizing agents and see white walls. She slowly took stock of her surroundings. She was wrapped in bandages, and she couldn't feel large parts of her body. Straps were securing her to the bed. An IV stuck out of her arm, and a monitor was taped in the crook of her elbow. From the clear bag stuck to the IV, she guessed she was on some sort of drip. After a few minutes, a nurse came in and discovered she was awake.

"Good morning hon, how are you feeling?"

Danielle licked her dry lips. "I feel—I feel… What happened?"

"You're a lucky girl. You survived a bad fall. I'll let the doctor explain more in a minute, but before that I need to check your vital signs, your short-term memory… First of all, are you in any pain right now?"

"No."

"Can you move any part of your body?"

"N-no," Danielle panicked, tears began to gather in her eyes. "Why can't I move anything? I can't even turn my head. Why am I strapped down?"

"You're wearing a neck brace right now. You've been unconscious for two days, so your body might take a little while before you can feel it. Tell us when you start to feel any pain. You hurt your back muscles in the fall, as well as several lacerations from the glass, and you sprained your left wrist from landing on it at an angle. Nothing's broken, but you're going to be moving slow for a while. We're going to keep a close eye on you in case you have a concussion, you hit your head really hard. We strapped you down so you wouldn't accidentally roll off the bed before you regained consciousness. We'll keep the straps on until the doctor evaluates you, OK?" She paused and gave a cordial smile. "Now that all the gory details are out of the way, tell me what you remember, don't mind me as I check your signs."

"I-I remember…" Danielle trailed off for a moment. She was beginning to feel her head – and it felt really swollen. "I-I was attacked. At home." The nurse was checking her eyes with a bright flashlight. "It was Zsasz."

"OK, the police are gonna want to talk to you about this in a bit, hon. They instructed us to call them when you were awake. Can you handle talking to them today?"

"Yes!" she said emphatically.

"I know you just woke up. I'm almost done and then I'll be out of your hair for a while. Do you know the year?"

By the time the nurse left, informing her the police would be here shortly, Danielle's head was spinning. The hospital wanted to keep her for a few days to a week to monitor her injuries. In total she had numerous lacerations, a bruised back, a sprained wrist, an injured neck, and a head injury. She had stitches in several places that would most likely turn into scars. But nothing broken. She was so thankful.

She lay there, listening to the clock in her room tick. She could hear it, but she couldn't angle her head to see it. What was taking the police so long?

As she lay there, parts of her body seemed to awaken. She felt this horrible prickling all over her back, almost itching. Were those the stitches? In other parts of her back and up through her neck, a deep throbbing pain began, alternating in intensity between each heartbeat, slowly increasing. There was a horrible, empty sort of ache in her left wrist, and all the while, the pain in her head was worsening. _Hurry up!_ she thought. Doctor, police, it didn't matter, just so long as someone came and took care of the pain!

After what seemed like a long time, she heard the door open. It startled her from a light slumber. She hadn't been able to fall all the way asleep, jittery and uncomfortable as her nerves were. Maybe it was posttraumatic stress setting in? She could feel her heart, beating alternatively faster and then, at times seeming to slow to a crawl. Her body felt alternately hot and cold, and she wondered if she were having an out of body experience.

She turned her eyes toward the door, as the neck brace made it hard to move her head.

A surgeon stood there in turquoise scrubs, a mask covering his face. She could tell it was a guy by the build, though she couldn't clearly see his face. He approached her bed.

Cold eyes stared into hers and she started. She must be seeing things.

The eyes narrowed. Slowly, the surgeon reached up to pull off his mask and scrub cap. The cap came off first, revealing four scars on his forehead. Danielle's heart stopped beating. "N-no way! This can't be happening!"

The mask came off to reveal a familiar, cruel smirk. H-how? How could he be here? How could he have gotten in?

"This is just a dream, Danielle," she whispered aloud to herself, noticing that this- this- _projection_ smirked further upon hearing her words. "There's no way you could be seeing this man, you're out of your mind—"

"I heard you had survived your… accident," Zsasz said with distaste. He was so close that in spite of her dizziness, she could make out the black flecks in his blue eyes, the deep cleft in his chin, the bruises on his high cheekbones. "You should have died. It would have been sweet. You could have saved yourself, _Danielle._" He held up a scalpel. "I've come to finish your work."

He savored the scared look in her eyes. She must be in agony, bandages covering her whole body, all over hiding the horrible pain from everyone but herself. She shouldn't have to hide it. She, Danielle- ah, he savored knowing her name, the name of his newest mark- she should wear her pain freely, just as he wore his scars freely. He could feel her terror, could see the blood drain from her face. He could hardly wait to spill it all and – he smiled down into her wide eyes – liberate her from her pain. He moved the scalpel almost lovingly above her arm and plunged the blade in. The pain made the zombie cry out.

"Such pretty blood, trickling like rain… Do you want to see more?" he laughed, his deranged joy breaking free as he savored his power over his helpless piggy.

"Someone help me!" Danielle almost sobbed at the pain in her arm. The scalpel stabbed into her, blood dripping onto the white sheets. The stiff bandages and the straps rendered her unable to move, leaving her completely at his mercy, "Someone please help me!" It was time to shut her up. It wouldn't do for them to be interrupted. Zsasz paused to unstrap the neck brace she had on, exposing her flesh, then slowly pulled the bloodied scalpel loose from his victim's arm. She watched with terror as the knife descended to her neck. "Nooooo! NOOOOOO!-"

The sound of glass shattering broke Zsasz's intense focus. A black shape flew in through the hospital window, knocking Zsasz into a corner. The murderer swore. "Batman!"

The Dark Knight punched Zsasz in the face. The Butcher quickly recovered and brandished the scalpel. Batman drew his cape in front of his face and then darted forward, stunning Zsasz with the heavy cape and punching him brutally. Zsasz recovered and with a swipe forced Batman to retreat. The man crouched low, his costume and fierce eyes making him look like fear personified. Zsasz came at him, he dodged, and in an instant his gauntlet was around Zsasz's neck and he was holding the criminal up against the wall. One more solid punch to the jaw, and Zsasz slumped, unconscious.

Less than a minute later, the police burst into the room. Batman was standing guard over Zsasz and turned to greet the Commissioner.

"You got him, I see," Gordon said with relief. "Is the girl alright?"

"I'm alive! But he got my arm!" Danielle called shakily from the bed. Officer Montoya went over to check on her. Officer Bullock started to handcuff Zsasz, who hadn't regained consciousness yet. "Get him to Arkham!" Gordon ordered. "There's a brand-new cell waiting for him there." Zsasz was dragged out of the room.

Both Commissioner Gordon and Batman went over to Danielle and Officer Montoya. Danielle was giving her statement while Montoya called for a doctor to come take care of her. She pressed a pillow to Danielle's wound to stop the bleeding.

"He attacked me at home on the night when I went out of the window. I'd jumped to escape from him." The young woman shuddered. "He must have stalked me after I saw him that night. I thought I'd been so careful going home. And then he came after me here too! He really wants me dead!"

"You're safe now," Batman said. "He won't get out where he's going."

"I worked at Arkham for a couple of years," she admitted. "I hadn't seen any of the super-criminals there because I was always busy with the records. He remembered me though. Why? I didn't do anything to stand out."

"Zsasz long has a habit of attacking the staff at Arkham," Batman intoned. "There's a survivor living here in Gotham right now, actually. Her name is Dr. Sarah Cassidy."

"I remember her," Danielle said thoughtfully. "I wonder if she'd want to talk about what she went through…" She winced at the throbbing pain in her arm. "…Y'know, with a fellow survivor."

"I'll see if I can get her number for you," Montoya said.

"What took you so long to get here?" Danielle asked. "Thank goodness Batman was here, if he weren't, you would have gotten here and I'd already have been dead."

"We had a feeling he'd come after you again, once word got out you were alive. Unfortunately the news reported it," Gordon spared a mental curse for the reporter Vicki Vale. "It was only a matter of time. Zsasz wouldn't have approached you if he'd seen the police. So we had a bat in the wings waiting."

"So you used me as bait." She felt slightly bitter at them for this. She sighed. "At least he's behind bars now. Thanks to you—" She stopped as she noticed that the object of her thanks was now gone. The curtains rustled over the broken window.

Gordon sighed. "I hate it when he does that."


	5. Chapter 4

- - - - - Chapter Four - - - - -

"So that's it, you just need to sign these forms, and you're all set!" the nurse said in her chipper voice.

"Thank you Elaine, I appreciate it," Danielle smiled at her. Five days and some amount of physical therapy later, she prepared to check out of the hospital.

The friendly nurse Elaine had informed her boss of her "accident". Since she was at the same place as her employment, the message didn't have to travel very far to the records department. Her boss came to visit personally, which touched Danielle, and she was given leave until she recovered. Which was good, because she would be needing a wheelchair, bandages, and a neck brace for at least another week, and it would probably be a long time before the stitches healed. She was sure to have scars. Zsasz's stab to her left arm had temporarily rendered her useless as a file monkey. Recovery was essential for her. Fortunately he had stabbed the same side limb she had sprained during her fall, so she still had near-full use of her right arm and hand.

"You're welcome, hon. We'll see you in a week anyway for a follow-up. Otherwise, come back and visit me sometime, since you're just in the basement. And," she raised an eyebrow playfully, "Let me know if it ever works out with that handsome Matthew fellow."

Danielle blushed. "I still can't believe he actually came here and visited."

"Well, why are you surprised? It's the sign of a good guy to come visit his lady in the hospital."

"I'm not his lady… yet!" Danielle smiled. "And maybe he's just doing it because he works a couple of floors below us!"

"Well, just the same…" Elaine winked at her. "I saw the way he was smiling at you."

It was strange learning how to move through the world in a wheelchair, especially only using her right arm. Things she had taken for granted before now seemed more difficult. She was determined to keep a good attitude about it, however. Not many people could say they survived being attacked by Victor Zsasz. She felt pretty lucky for that.

As she exited the elevator and wheeled slowly through the hallway, she noticed a bulletin board full of faded notices. One was for a class on pregnancy and maternity. Another was for survivors of STDs. Another still was for extended physical therapy for people who needed a prolonged recovery period. And one was even for burn victims, particularly acid burn victims. She guessed this had something to do with the Joker's "legacy". She noticed that all the signs were old, and none of them listed recent classes. Another thing she noticed was the absence of one particular subject that suddenly sprang to mind: self-defense classes.

Looking for the information desk, she spotted it and went over. A tired-looking secretary with glasses balancing on her nose looked over the counter at her.

"How may I help you?"

Danielle wasn't sure how to bring it up. She cleared her throat. "Um, I noticed your classes on the bulletin board. Are there any ones coming up?"

"What kind of classes were you looking into?"

"Um, self-defense ones?"

The secretary gave her a long look, obviously appraising her wheelchair and neck brace. "We used to have them, but they've been cancelled for several years now, ever since the director of our patient outreach department passed away."

"I'm so sorry," Danielle said regretfully.

"Me too," the secretary looked sad. Her voice dropped to a whisper, "It was the Scarecrow."

"The Scarecrow! What happened?"

"Well, her self-defense class in particular was very popular. A lot of former victims of assault were learning how to stand up for themselves. Maybe Scarecrow saw it as a threat to his control over people's fears, who knows," the secretary mused. "Or maybe she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was an amazing woman. Most of those programs were created and maintained by her. After her tragic death, no one else stepped up. They haven't been active for a few years. I'm sorry." She looked genuinely apologetic.

Seeing the secretary's sadness, Danielle wondered if she had been a personal friend to the director. "It's OK. I hope they'll get started again someday." She paused. "I work here in the records room, in the basement. My name's Danielle."

"Pleased to meet you, Danielle. I'm Mrs. Phillips," the secretary shook her hand with a warm smile.

"If you hear about the classes starting up again-?"

"I will tell you." The secretary adjusted her glasses. "What on Earth happened that you should be here as a patient instead of as an employee?" She eyed Danielle's condition.

The girl winced. "It was Zsasz."

Mrs. Phillips gasped. "You're lucky you're alive!"

"Yes," Danielle nodded grimly.

She started the journey home. But as she went, she realized that it was actually a very nice day out. She usually wasn't out during the day, instead either at work or at home resting on the weekends. Her slowed pace made her take notice of details she didn't normally see. Like that some of the shoddy building actually had gargoyles carved into them, especially the ones that were closer to Old Gotham. She wondered who had designed the buildings, and if they had known how spooky Gotham would become. She thought it would be hilarious if she saw Batman up there someday, hanging upside down from a gargoyle like a real bat. _Yeah right, he wouldn't do that, that's just dorky…_

As she passed the second block, she remembered that the botanic gardens were down a little ways. She hadn't been there in a long time – possibly only once before when she first moved to Gotham. Well, she wasn't at work today. She was supposed to be taking it easy, and it was such a beautiful day. Suddenly the idea of seeing the botanic gardens sounded appealing to her. She would get to enjoy them during the daytime, and best of all, it was wheelchair accessible.

Slowly, she turned her wheelchair down the corner and headed toward the botanic gardens.

By the time she returned home later that day, she felt better than she had in a long while. She felt strangely happy. When was the last time she had done something, just because she enjoyed it? Strange how a near-death experience made you appreciate what you had. She pushed her wheelchair into the tiny elevator and went up to the second floor and into her apartment.

When she came inside, the memories all came flooding back. She could see the remains of some crime scene tape still up, though most of it looked to be torn down. Her grandmother's ashes were still lying on the living room floors and furniture, and the vase was shattered. Some of the furniture looked to be overturned. She honestly couldn't remember her confrontation with Zsasz but guessed they must have really messed up her things. Blood still tinged the edges of her broken window. The thought that Zsasz had been in the apartment last, after she'd already gone out the window, made her shudder. She looked to see if anything was missing. Nothing. With a scoff, she thought he at least should have stolen her cassette player with the song he seemed to like so much.

She knelt down carefully from her wheelchair and, whispering a quiet apology to her grandmother, began sweeping up the ashes. When she was done, she put the ashes carefully in a cat food bowl she'd kept from her old cat Macaroon. The fluffy white kitty had died a while ago, but she didn't have the heart to throw out her old food bowl. That plus her grandmother's ashes were some of the few things that had been salvaged from her old apartment. Considering the sweet nature of that cat, she was sure her grandmother wouldn't mind.

- - - - - **Author's Note** - - - - -

God, this makes me wanna play AA and AC again! Confession time: Zsasz wasn't the scariest for me - it was Killer Croc. Just walking along, not sure when he was going to attack, and then the scary music, not hitting him in time with the batarang... Damn. Nearly had a heart attack. Zsasz was definitely one of the creepier, though. Danny Jacobs just put so much _character_ in his voice. He was underrated for sure, probably due to him being finished off with a single Batman blow (be it a fist or a batarang) each of the three times we encountered him between the two games. But then I felt really sorry for him listening to him "confess" his story of how his life spiraled out of control. He's got one of the saddest back stories, right up there with Batman himself and Mr. Freeze (another Victor!). Definitely a second, buried side to him. Heh, if it weren't for his "game over" scenes where he *smirks* at you, happy that you missed his call, and the obvious joy he got over telling the political prisoners how he was going to cut them open (damn that laugh), his crusade would almost seem "thoughtful" of his victims. But no, he gets off on the actual acts of murdering them, the power he has over them. Dr. Young was right. Poor Dr. Young.


	6. Chapter 5

_- - - - - Chapter Five - - - - -_

_Ah, back in Arkham again. Back in the stinking, stifled bowels of Arkham! Without his knives, without a way to make the mark. He hated it!_ Zsasz ran his hands over the walls, touching the tallies he had scratched in over time with his fingernails.

This mark was for the psychologist who had gotten too close to his cell. She had been trying to psychoanalyze him. She didn't realize that the bars were wide enough for his arm. She never had a chance once he had gotten his hand around her neck.

Here were the 20 marks that belonged to the guards sent to subdue him shortly after Dr. Cassidy had left the first time. They hadn't known he had a knife until it was too late. He needed to get another one.

Here was the cement patch in the wall, where the new architects had clearly found his former way out and had it sealed. Large parts of the island had been destroyed in part by Joker and largely by Poison Ivy's plants …and he wouldn't be surprised if the Batman had done his damage as well. The bowels of Intensive Treatment, his "home", had been undisturbed, and so he was put back in his old cell. Obviously, though, there had been modifications. _Damn them._ This would make escaping harder than the last time.

He paced back and forth, his hand clenching and unclenching, as though he still held his precious knife. _It's not so bad in here, really, for the first few days_, he tried to convince himself. After that, he would go stir crazy and gain nasty raccoon bags under his eyes and not sleep until he found his way out again. He couldn't have the mark in here unless he was clever about it, and he needed the mark! Aside from that, Arkham was passable… It gave him room to think. To think about where it had all gone wrong.

Of course he knew the answer already. It had gone wrong long ago, even before the Penguin. Everything had seemed right until his parents had died. Now it seemed like he was mostly empty before, before he discovered the mark, but it had taken his parents' deaths for him to realize it. But his parents themselves had been the answer to the emptiness. They had been the reason for his life, and he hadn't appreciated it. And now they were gone.

No, he wasn't even questioning what had gone wrong with the most recent one, the one who got him landed here again. That was obvious; the police had set a trap, and he had foolishly fallen for it. He wouldn't make that mistake again. He should have learned the first time, when he failed to kill that butler. His skin crawled and he stopped counting his marks for a moment. Even the memory felt wrong to him.

He needed the mark. It was all he had left.

When he got out of here – _when_, not _if_, it was only a matter of time – he would hunt down that little intern and kill her. Then a few more old friends, and then… He would never run out of people to save.

Too soon, the guards came and escorted him out of his cell, to the therapist's office. Once again, that old fool – Dr. Whistler – was treating him. At least she, unlike the others, understood that he _needed_ to kill. Needed to! So why didn't she _let him?_

Just one more reason why he preferred Arkham City over Arkham Asylum. No more doctor's appointments. No one to pick apart his brain. And more than anything, the freedom to liberate people and make marks. Now _that_ was therapy!

"Victor, welcome back," Dr. Whistler looked over her notes. As always, her lack of fear irritated him. "It seems you have been away for us for longer this last time. We are glad you are back home."

"No _thanks_ to the Bat," he spat.

"So you encountered the Batman again?"

"Where is Sarah?" he asked, deflecting the question.

"You mean Dr. Cassidy? It has been two years, Victor." _Has it really been so long? Two years ago this month April?*_ "You are a permanent patient of mine now." Unbeknownst to him, the doctor scribbled in her notes: "Patient continues to ask about Dr. Cassidy. Seems concerned about 'the one who got away'."

"I am still saving her spot," Zsasz whispered, more to himself than to the doctor. "She will still have my gift!" The last time he was here, so was she, though she refused to treat him after his attempt to liberate her. He heard she had survived the Joker's takeover. He hadn't forgotten about her. But the Batman had given him an especially vicious beating when he attempted to cure her. He hadn't gone after her the last time he was free… He was beginning to reconsider that decision. He still needed her mark.

The session ended soon after. They didn't make any progress. He didn't tell her about the intern – Danielle. No doubt she already knew from the police report, which he was sure featured somewhere in his file, and regardless, no need to tell her. He had plans for Danielle, and Sarah, and that butler Pennyworth, and the Batman, and the Cat, and maybe even for the Penguin… So many _plans_, so many _marks._

Perhaps it would be a worse torture to the disgusting midget to let him live. Perhaps the Penguin was… _undeserving_ of his gift. But Zsasz couldn't help but imagine all the fun places he might pose the Penguin. Or perhaps he could slip into the Iceberg Lounge and liberate the Penguin's men, if he was still operating from there. A smile beamed across his face as he imagined what the Penguin's reaction would be to finding his whole crew left posed playing poker, preferably a recreation of their own game from that one fateful night...

He shuddered with anger at the memory of being trapped in the Penguin's cage. The thought of being again humiliated by that man made him unconsciously grip his forearms tightly, drawing blood with his nails. If only he had had his knife then! But he didn't, and he was already very weak from being imprisoned within the display case, and he had left rather than stay to slay the Penguin's forces. _So I left… I let him get the better of me! I was so close, and I could have cut him. He probably has called me a coward… But he doesn't know where I am now, does he? He must be terrified… I heard they found him in one of his own cages… Ah, that would have been sweet to discover._ He hoped there would be another opportunity to cut the Penguin to ribbons – he would say down to size, but the Penguin was already a few sizes too short for his reputation…

Oh, but if the thought of his cold knife cutting into warm flesh didn't make him giddy! It wasn't like the high he had gotten from gambling, no, it was so much purer. He remembered the desperation, the tear-stained feeling of hope as he stood outside the Iceberg Lounge, as he had before so many other gambling halls, and shuddered. He was so lost back then. Alone, lost. Empty. He was still empty, though he knew he should be grateful for his divine quest. The only time he truly felt alive was when he had chosen a new person to save.

Too soon it was tomorrow, or was it the day after tomorrow? and time for the next therapy appointment. The guards came to get him. One in particular stood out. Maria Andrade. He remembered when she was still a trainee. Now, even though she no longer wore a nametag, he recognized her as a full-fledged guard. How times change.

The guards led him to the elevator that he would take to the therapy center. But the elevator was occupied; another patient was being discharged. Zsasz almost gagged; he knew the stench before he saw the patient.

Killer Croc.

Right then, more than anything, he wished he had his knife.

The beast turned one feral yellow eye in Zsasz's direction. "You!" he growled.

"What?" Zsasz taunted, his voice growing high. "Batman didn't make some nice crocodile skinned shoes out of your rancid hide? Or perhaps a new cape?"

Croc jerked around so hard that the guards restraining him lost their balance. He took one giant step towards Zsasz… right as the guard with the trigger shocked his collar. His head jerked and disgusting froth flew from his mouth as the shock registered. Once the guards had him back under control, he raised his head, a frightening sort of calm on his ghastly features.

"Mark my words, Zsasz. I will suck the meat from your bones someday. Tally marks and all."

The giant walked away, and Zsasz could hear his own guards audibly release their breaths. Quickly resuming their professional demeanor, they moved Zsasz on.

Dr. Whistler was again waiting, ready to take notes. This time, Maria Andrade remained with them in the room.

"Good afternoon, Victor. Let us discuss the most recent crime you committed."

Zsasz narrowed his eyes. "You want to discuss the intern who… got away?"

"Yes. The report says you attacked her three times in less than a week. What happened?"

"She got away, doctor. Isn't that obvious?"

"How did she get away?"

"The first time she ran and went inside of somewhere. The second time she jumped out of a window."

"She survived her fall."

"Yes. The third time the _Batman_ stopped me."

"So what will you do? You feel the need to kill her… But she is alive and she will stay that way. How will you let go?"

Zsasz didn't answer her. He _wasn't_ going to let her go. The doctor should know that already. Wasn't she the one who understood that he _needed_ to kill? That he _needed_ the mark?

It was everything. Finding the new mark, watching them, getting the tiniest glimpse into their lives, seeing their despair and recognizing it in himself… Then, the hunt, and the kill. Sometimes he would take hours to kill them. Other times, it was over very quickly. The intern had not initially been intended to become a long kill – he was simply silencing someone who had stumbled upon his work, a lucky liberation so to speak. But three times… Three times she had refused and resisted his gift. Oh no… This one was special. He would take his time with her someday. She would _feel it_ when he liberated her.

He thought about it all the way back to his cell, and for hours afterward. It didn't matter whether he killed the zombies quickly or slowly. He reveled in the feeling of their blood soaking his knife, splattering across his body. Watching the last dregs of their lives fade away into blissful oblivion. And then posing them. No one ever understood why he posed them, but it was so simple. It was in the manner of life imitating art… except that in this case, it was death imitating life, or perhaps the other way around – liberated zombies imitating living death. The dead bodies were imitating their mundane existence, whereas before he killed them, they had already been dead inside. Indeed, real life was death. And all that was left was the mark. The ultimate feeling. The fleeting one that always reminded him of where he was. He knew the depression was to follow after carving each one. After all, he was human – just like the zombies. He himself was barely alive, and more often than not still empty. He had been given a purpose. And no matter how they suffered in the end, at his hands or not, he honored their freedom and his great mission with the mark.

Zsasz's eyes shone with fervor as his mind recalled every exquisite detail of his mission, as well as the recent kills of the couple. They didn't suffer. And in death, they imitated the companionship they had always wanted in life.

Enough. It was torturous to think these thoughts and not be able to act on them. He needed to get his mind off the mark – but it was impossible!

Zsasz pretended he could hear the water outside, pretended he could feel the warm breeze on his skin coming in from the bay. It was an island, so he knew the water was out there, though his cell was so deep within Intensive Treatment that he couldn't hear anything at all, really. Occasionally he would hear the inmates in nearby cells, and occasionally he could swear he heard Maxie Zeus in the walls… They should have put Mr. Zsasz in Extreme Incarceration in the Penitentiary, where he would be alone. Then he would be free to count his marks, to practice his isometrics, and to escape again in peace. Being this close to all these piggies and not being able to slaughter them was pure torture to him! Oh, he was expected to feel some sort of camaraderie for his fellow prisoners on sheer principle, no doubt. But the prisoners who had crossed his way knew better. They knew he left no one alive.

He smiled at the memory of the inmate he had left posed near a telephone booth in Arkham City and absently rubbed the inmate's scar on his skin.

He touched the spot he had saved for the Batman… And then the one he never got to carve for Dr. Penelope Young.

_"No-ooo! Ahh! Ahhhhh!"_

_"I know you're still out there! Won't be long and you'll hear her final song!"_

He had been so close. If only he hadn't hesitated. The scent of her tears had been intoxicating, the blood in her veins just singing to be released. If _only_ he hadn't hesitated. It was the Joker's fault, somehow. If the clown had just shut up instead of taunting him, he could have thought more clearly. Maybe he could have heard the Batman better before that vigilante knocked him out, just enough to _duck_ when he threw his weapon at Zsasz. He could have had her mark. But instead the Joker had snuffed out her life.

The outside chatter shattered his ruminations. His hall mates could not shut up about the "good old days" when they were still part of the Joker's crew. He was sure he had heard the Joker's jester, Harlequin or whatever her name was… He was sure he had heard her whiny voice in here a couple of days ago from the direction of the Holding Cells, sobbing over "Mister J" before she was moved elsewhere. The Joker was dead, however. That clown would never manipulate him again. And yet he knew the Joker had finally left behind the emptiness of life – a life the Joker had made surprisingly bold meaning of. He envied the Joker in some ways.

He knew what the doctors thought of him: sociopath, psychopath, little to no empathy for human life. They misunderstood. He cut because he cared. Why else would he have dedicated his body as a temple to all those he had liberated? He envied them.

Again he began to count his marks, starting with the one on his forearm – the very first mark he had ever made, the one that belonged to the homeless man. They covered his chest, his shoulders, his arms, his legs, his forehead. 379 marks. How had he managed to kill so many people? Why hadn't someone stopped him yet? Once again, the answer was simple. He killed because he had no fear of death. It didn't matter if his victims tried to fight back (they always failed), or if the Batman came, or the police. He was not afraid of the police, having killed several of them himself, and though he _was_ scared of Batman, it was well known that Batman never kills. Even if he did, Victor Zsasz was not afraid of death. If he died, his work would be unfinished, but that was all. A minor inconvenience. He did not fear his own salvation.

Had the therapists looked more closely at him, they might have understood how deeply suicidal he was, deep down. Yes, he envied those he had set free.

Or perhaps the therapists did understand. Why else would they padlock this wretched piece of leather to his neck? Why else? To prevent him from cutting his own throat.

"Cutting and cutting and cutting and cutting…."

A guard came by to rap on his cell. Apparently he was whispering too loudly and the guard thought he would have some fun with him. He could see the sneer behind the face-shield.

"You want some time in solitary?" _Yes,_ Zsasz thought, but didn't say anything. The guard continued, "We've got an open cell. Poison Ivy's old cell, in fact." _That plant witch?_ "Hey, maybe your scars can grow some of her spores, HAHAHAH—"

Zsasz choked out the guard's laughter with a quick movement. "Why does everyone always forget that I can reach through the bars?" he mused quietly to himself, as the guard slumped forward, his face purple. Zsasz surrendered his hold on his neck. Before he could search the body for keys, two more guards approached.

After numerous blows from the guards, during which he could NOT fight back due to all the guns pointed at him, and a trip to the electroconvulsive therapy chair in Patient Pacification, Zsasz was thrown in isolation after all. _Ah, finally peace and quiet._

He wished he were outside on the bridge on a warm evening. He wished his parents were there. That time of year was coming up again. Summertime. It always made him nostalgic. Yes. He could almost hear his mother's voice…

_"Victor? Vickie? It's time for dinner. Your father and I want to talk with you about the company. Can you manage it for a few days while we go on a trip? It's just a trip for us to get away. A boating trip. We'll be back before you know it!"_

But they weren't. They never came back. And all the money in the world couldn't bring them back. He couldn't be like Bruce Wayne. The billionaire had lost his parents too, albeit at a much younger age. And look at him. Full of empty happiness and bevies of women and ALL HIS OWN MONEY! How did he manage to keep it all when Zsasz was left with nothing? How was Zsasz able to feel the deaths of his parents so much more deeply than this shallow man, this zombie, that the zombie could go on while Zsasz lost- _or was it threw away-_ everything?

But Zsasz believed that deep down, Bruce Wayne was hiding his pain, just like everyone else. He was a zombie, no better than anyone else. It would take so little for the playboy billionaire to become just like Victor. Zsasz wondered what that push would be; he had already lost his parents, so what else could he possibly lose but his money? Possibly his precious butler, for good this time? His pointless good looks, possibly? Aside from those, there was nothing Bruce Wayne could possibly lose… but his very life.

Zsasz silently wished he could hear his mother's and father's voices, one more time.

He pushed away the sad thoughts and thought about the intern instead. She looked to be just a year or two older than he was when he had lost everything, in her mid to late 20s. So sad, so young, to be a zombie already. But then, he had seen younger.

It had excited him when he had unstrapped her neck brace to see her bare neck. Her veins had popped out just for him, just for his blade of cold steel to kiss warm flesh. He could see the terror in her eyes when he had first removed the surgeon's mask and here, he was unable to stop a little chuckle at the memory. If only he could have taken his time. It would have been sweet to cut her cheeks, to watch her cry tears of blood. He could have drawn up her arms. Oh, but it would have been better to have kept her strapped to her bed, while he tore holes in her body, in her shoulders, her ribs, above her heart, to have savored the crimson river pouring from her wounds. And the final cut—slashing through her throat, and giving her the oblivion she so desired.

She must be in denial. No one could have listened to that music without resonating with it somehow. Yes, she did want him to have her mark. She did want for something more, deep down.

He wished he could give it to her. Right now!

Now, how was he going to get out of here again?

-0-

**A/N: **

There were some inconsistencies in chronologies between _Batman: Arkham Asylum_ and _Batman: Arkham City_. In _Batman: Arkham Asylum_, Zsasz's final interview tape, where presumably he kidnaps Dr. Cassidy, takes place on December 22nd. In _Batman: Arkham City_, during Batman's second phone call with Zsasz, the recent case history file reveals that Batman rescued Dr. Cassidy from Zsasz on April 20th. I don't believe that Zsasz would hold Dr. Cassidy captive for four months (without brutally maiming her in the process at least), so I'm going to go with the April date of the kidnapping.

So the timeline is like this: Zsasz kidnaps Dr. Cassidy in April, Batman saves her, less than a month later the Joker takes over Arkham Asylum, 18 months later Arkham City opens up (on November 19th, according to the plaque near the entrance to Arkham City), and sometime over the next couple of months (during the dead of winter), Batman shuts it down. It is now four or so months after Arkham City was closed, so it's Spring again. :)

OK, all done! Sorry if my stickler-for-details-ness made your head hurt! ;) Back to the story!


	7. Chapter 6

_- - - - - Chapter Six - - - - -_

It had been a month since Victor Zsasz was incarcerated. One month, and she was still healing. But in the past month, she was happier than she had ever been.

She'd had no idea how beautiful Gotham City was in the daylight.

While her body healed, she'd wound up becoming a regular visitor to the botanic gardens. It was so… peaceful in there. The air seemed purer. And God… the smell of the flowers. Huge, bright flowers whose names she'd never heard, with their fragrance. _Strange,_ she wondered, _am I under some kind of spell? I just can't stay away from these flowers, this place…_

She took walks out in the sunlight. Long walks, first with her wheelchair and then, as she healed, on foot. She discovered whole areas of Gotham she had never seen before. She would go strolling for hours, discovering new twists and turns. Sometimes she would go along the docks buying seafood, and she would sit near the Bay and watch the seals sunning themselves and the seagulls trying to steal food. The first time she saw one seagull steal from another and almost crash into the railing, she laughed out loud until her ribs ached. She found herself laughing a lot more. Maybe it was the increased sunlight as the summer solstice approached. She felt so happy. Maybe a near-death experience or three would do that to you.

"You look different," Mrs. Phillips had said when Danielle stopped in one day for a follow-up, about three weeks post-discharge. "There's a lightness about you."

Danielle chuckled at the way the old woman spoke. "Maybe it's the fresh air," she said. "I've been going out a lot lately. Have you been to the botanic gardens, ma'am?"

"Not for a time," the secretary sighed. "To be honest, I'm superstitious about them – never know if Poison Ivy's hiding in one. But you look very happy. Could it be that you've been literally stopping to smell the flowers?"

The realization filled Danielle with happiness. What a precious gift the world had given her. After these close encounters, she was still alive. She was lucky to be alive to appreciate so much. After that, she went to the botanic gardens and docks with new vigor and with new boldness explored even more parts of Gotham City. Everywhere. Park Row. Amusement Mile. Gotham Square. Chinatown. East End. The Fashion District. All over Gotham Docks.

The ultimately beautiful thing she saw, however, wound up being in Park Row. Not too far away from Crime Alley, there was an amazing church. She knew it had been the site of a Joker takeover during Arkham City, as well as a makeshift medical wing… Maybe its impromptu medical history was what made it appealing to her. She liked to think it was the spectacular stained glass windows. She would sit in the pews quietly, not exactly praying, but rather taking in the array of colors as they filtered down over her face. Maybe, by admiring the colors, she was admiring God's work that such colors existed. She liked to think so.

And now tomorrow, work would begin again. She was finally ready to go back. She had been very lucky that her boss understood so well; her boss could have fired her easily for missing so much work.

_So lucky…_

And then just as suddenly, it was tomorrow and she was already standing in front of the heavy wooden doors leading into the hospital.

Why did work seem like such a letdown? She was going back to a job, a good stable job, and all she could think of was how much she would miss her walks, her explorations. "Is this what he meant?" she asked herself aloud, before she suddenly realized what – or _who_ – she was thinking about. Zsasz. Why Zsasz?! She gritted her teeth. He shouldn't be in her head! And yet… That thing he said, about mundane and the daily grind…? Is that what he had seen when he targeted her? She hung her head. _I refuse to admit that he had a point._

She shook her head. "I just need to get out more often." A small smile. "I don't have to stop going out to these places…"

She reached out to pull open the door, and it flew open.

She blinked, surprised. "Matthew?"

The surgeon nurse stood there in all his tall glory and gave her a twinkling blue-eyed smile. Her heart melted.

"I heard you were getting back today," he said, and her heart skipped a beat.

"So did you just happen to be here by the door, or are you my welcoming committee?" she smiled back, a little surprised by her own boldness.

He grinned at her, "Well…" motioning her inside.

A shower of confetti greeted her. A strawberry blonde blur ran at her, and soon one of her workmates, Lily, was giving her a bone-crunching hug and squealing in her ear. Over her shoulder, Danielle noticed Cindy, Deirdre, and Matthew standing there looking amused.

"Like our welcome back party?" Cindy asked. Danielle took a moment to admire her friend's cornrow-braided hair. She had styled it with some gorgeous glass beads, and the colors made Danielle think of the stained glass window in Park Row's church. Cindy pointed at the enthusiastic strawberry blonde with a grin. "The confetti was Lily's idea."

"Obviously," Deirdre coughed.

"I'm so glad you're better!" Lily cheered enthusiastically. She pulled back and gave Danielle an exaggerated face. "The files have been _killing me_ without you here! I still don't get the retrieval function on the new computer system! You've gotta save us, Dani!"

She laughed at her coworker's mortification. "Come on. It can't be more difficult than trying to mend my left arm." For effect, she squeezed her left side muscles and winced at the slight pain.

Lily rubbed her friend's arm with concern. "Does it still hurt? Last week the nurses said you were getting better."

"It's better. But it'd be nice if you wanted to do the heavy lifting today and I'll take over the online file system."

Lily's eyes twinkled. "You've got yourself a deal!"

"She's been going crazy without you," Deirdre butted in. Her hair was a slightly darker red shade than Lily's, but she had green eyes instead of Lily's browns. "Ms. Davis put her in charge of the online system while the rest of us have been doing the hard files…"

"She knows it better than the rest of us," Cindy shrugged as the file monkeys began to walk toward the basement. Danielle stopped for a moment to look at Matthew, who hung back.

"Um, thank you for coming to our party," she said lamely. Matthew chuckled.

"Glad you're back," he answered. "Looks like you're healing OK."

"Yeah, well…"

"Nurse Elaine said your physical looked almost back to normal last week, though of course the little bit left always takes—"

"Wait, you've been talking to Elaine?" Danielle asked incredulously. She tried hard not to let herself blush over what Elaine might have told him.

She saw dimples when he smiled. "I- well, I miiiight- have wanted to make sure you had recovered. You were in a pretty scary situation." He grew serious. "How are you feeling about that? Are you feeling better since he's been put away?"

Danielle almost winced, but then shrugged. "To be honest… I haven't been thinking about it very much." She smiled softly as she recalled her long walks over the past month. "There's so many good things to be thinking about instead."

He agreed with her. "Think you might want to catch lunch sometime?"

-0-

Clouds. She could watch them all day. Well, until the sun went down.

Where did he get to be so perfect? Their lunch today was amazing. _Matthew…_ It had taken him two days to track her down and make good on his request to "catch lunch together sometime." And considering how today had gone, it wouldn't surprise her if it happened again tomorrow. Though she didn't want to count her chickens—who cares?! She sighed. _Soooo hot. The sun, that is. Of course._

_Dani. She loooved the way he said her name – 'Dani.' Just the way it sounded coming out of his mouth._

Wednesday? Who cared that there were two more workdays? Though work _was_ extra-satisfying lately, with her awesome and hilarious fellow file-monkeys. Instead of keeping to herself, like she used to, she surprised herself. They talked the whole time about nothing in particular, and yet the mood was so light. All her workmates were catching up on the online file system, with her help. Deirdre was farthest along, though Lily had made bounds of improvement in three days and had almost caught up to Cindy. She hoped the good mood would last.

It did. They went to lunch again, and again on Friday. On Saturday morning at the crack of dawn, she went to her precious botanic gardens and from there, to her now-familiar and now-precious haunts all over the city. She spent an extra hour in the church on Sunday, thanking God for all her blessings. And then when Monday rolled around…

It was exactly a week after their first lunch date when Matthew asked Danielle to go to the Gotham Symphony with him next week, after work on Friday night. An invitation Danielle gladly accepted.

She was taking a shower in the early evening one day, counting down the nights until the Symphony, and the phone rang. Being still in the shower, she didn't hear the phone ring. It was only when she was out drying off that she heard it ring again. Wrapping the towel around herself, she made her way over to the phone and answered it, the warm nearly-summer evening air in her apartment caressing her bare arms.

"Hello?" she said cheerfully.

"You missed my call," a voice said on the other end.

"I'm sorry, I was in the shower. Is this Matthew?" she asked, the smile still in her voice.

"_Matthew?_ Could it be that my little piggy has found someone to share her life with?"

Sudden coldness. Danielle blanched, holding the phone away from her face. Sudden terror descended in her. _No… this couldn't be who-_ When she had gotten her nerve back, she put the phone back to her ear.

"…Or, is it that you are trying to make something happen with this _Matthew …_yet, you're still all alone _…Danielle_?"

_No. No, it couldn't be. It couldn't be him. Why? Why is he calling me? HOW? How did he get my number?_ Terror rushed through her so loudly that she could hear her own heartbeat in her head.

"…It's you," she finally said, barely able to speak.

"Me who?"

"Zsasz," she prayed to be wrong.

"You sound sooo happy to hear my voice. Did you think I had forgotten about you, piggy? I still need your mark!"

"What are you doing calling from Arkham?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice calm, finding some small amount of courage to confront her would-be tormentor. _He's still in Arkham, right? Surely he couldn't have escaped!?_ "I didn't know patients were allowed to use the phone."

There was a silence on the other end, and then Zsasz spoke with a tone Danielle didn't like.

"…Who says I'm in Arkham anymore? For all you know, I could be right outside your window, watching you."

Panicked, Danielle whipped her head around and stared out the window above her bed. She couldn't see anyone.

"…Did I make you look? Khehehahahaa!" His creepy laugh sent goosebumps down her arms.

"How the hell did you get out?" she hissed at him.

"Now, Danielle. That would be telling."

She scrunched up her face, fighting tears of frustration. "Stay away from me, you lunatic. I'll tell the police you escaped!"

"The police already know, now why haven't they come to protect you yet? Don't you think they would make you their top priority, knowing I'm back in Gotham?"

"You're lying! They must not know yet. You're just trying to keep me from calling them."

"Then why haven't you called yet? Afraid that I'll be in there, cutting your throat, before you've called?"

Danielle bit her lip. She was afraid that if she hung up, then he'd be free to come in and take her. As long as she stalled him, he couldn't get off the phone—

"Or is it that you know I'm right? Silly little zombie. You know as well as I do they won't come. Why would they? It's pointless to protect such a boring person who is just going to die, one way or another, one day or another." His tone grew even more sinister.

A tear grew in her eye. "And how do you know I'm boring? I have friends! I have a life!" And then she wondered if she had put her friends in danger by mentioning to the Butcher that she had any. "Where do you get off telling me I'm boring?" the slightest grain of anger, born of pride, began to seep into her words.

"Oh, don't delude yourself, dear piggy! You of all people know the truth of the song! Your boring life—"

A burst of anger cut through her terror. "I'M NOT BORING, YOU FREAK!" she screamed into the receiver, and promptly slammed down the phone.

"Stupid no good bully," she muttered heatedly to herself, before she picked up the phone again to call the police as fast as she could. Hopefully the surprise of her hanging up on him would buy her some time. _Or,_ she shuddered as the phone dialed, _it could piss him off into offing me quicker—_

Meanwhile, in another part of Gotham, Zsasz hung up the phone and sighed with contentment. Such wonderful amusement this evening. Of course he couldn't approach her. The police _were_ outside of her home and they had been for an hour. Of course she didn't know that yet. He imagined she would be calling them soon, letting them know she had received a phone call from him.

Perfect. He had another zombie to visit tonight anyway.

With the police distracted, they wouldn't think to protect one particular former victim of his. One of the survivors. He wondered if she and Danielle had ever spoken to each other, compared notes. He wondered if he still found both of them worthy of his gift.

So far, Danielle looked very promising. Did the other woman still hold that promise as well?

He touched the spot on his skin he had been saving for her mark. It tingled slightly. This was a good sign.

Already he was thinking ahead. Of walking up to the complex, going up the elevator, to the door of apartment 433, and knocking. He could imagine her rising out of her favorite red chair (maybe he would pose her on that), undoing the six locks on her door, opening the door to him. His prey. And then …he would make something happen for her. He would give her his gift, her salvation. He would paint her living room crimson with her blood and finally have her mark. He wondered if she had remembered to feed her cat today; it would probably be the last time she ever would.

Smiling, Zsasz went into the rapidly darkening evening to pay a visit to his old "friend," Dr. Sarah Cassidy.

-0-

**A/N:** In case any of my friends from AWWC are reading this - I haven't forgotten about AWWC! I'm taking the time to write the next chapter carefully because it's the last chapter, and I want to make it the best one I can. It should be due around Christmas Eve. :) Til next time!


	8. Chapter 7

_- - - - - Chapter Seven - - - - -_

_Oh hell no._ Danielle stormed down the streets to work, fuming to herself. Her bad mood must have been visible, because other pedestrians scrambled out of her way as she walked.

The moment she had felt the fear begin was also when the anger had hit her full force. It was not fair. She didn't deserve this, she thought bitterly. Zsasz had already done enough. Here she had recovered, life was good again – and then he showed up to take it away again? _How dare he?!_ A small child darted behind his mother at the sight of her scowl, and she apologized sheepishly to both.

Logically, she knew she should be fearing for her life. But dammit, she had just put her life together again, even better than before actually, and here he was trying to ruin it again!

She barely noticed walking into the heavy wooden doors of the hospital, into her sanctuary, and in her haste she almost ran over someone.

"Whoa! Sorry about that."

"Dani?"

She looked up into a familiar face. "Sorry Matthew, I didn't see you!"

He took in her disheveled appearance. Apparently she had been running her fingers over her scalp so much that she had high hair now. "Everything OK? You look stressed."

Danielle sighed and tried to force her frown to disappear. "I found out last night that Zsasz got out of Arkham."

Matthew was surprised. "Your attacker? You mean, like they let him out or—"

"He escaped," she nodded. Her crush looked freaked out. A sinking feeling came into her stomach. What if he didn't want to hang out with her anymore because she was a Zsasz magnet? "Um—"

"You must be so scared," he said. She nodded.

"Yeah, but… I think the police will catch him soon," she tried to calm her thundering heart.

"Yeah. Are they going to put you somewhere safe?"

"I'll ask them. That's a good question…"

"Are we still on for lunch today?"

Her heart skipped a beat. "You wanna go?" she asked hopefully. Maybe she didn't scare him off! Or maybe Zsasz didn't scare him off, rather.

He smiled. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. I'll see you in the courtyard, Dani. " He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Hey – stay safe."

She watched him walk away, and for a moment she completely forgot about Zsasz.

-0-

Her boss Ms. Davis was waiting for her when she got there. At first Danielle thought she had come to review their work or give them a new task – until she saw Officer Montoya standing with her boss. The sinking feeling returned.

"Danielle," Ms. Davis said, "the officer would like to talk with you for a moment. You're excused from work so take your time, OK?"

"Thank you," the file monkey replied. Montoya gave her a nod and led her away into another room in the basement, giving them privacy.

"I am sorry to come to your work like this, miss. You might want to sit down."

Danielle sat instantly at Montoya's serious tone. "What is it?"

"Were you acquainted with Dr. Sarah Cassidy?"

"No, I didn't know her," the girl searched her mind to remember what she knew about the doctor. "To be honest, I'd been meaning to call her after you gave me her number, Officer—Did something happen to her? Does she know Zsasz is free?"

Montoya's brow furrowed. "I'm sorry to tell you this. Dr. Cassidy has passed away. She was found this morning in her apartment. We believe that Zsasz is responsible for her death."

Danielle felt as if she had been punched in the gut. "He killed her?" Tears stung her eyes suddenly. The officer laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, the same shoulder Zsasz had once stabbed. She didn't even know Dr. Cassidy – but like her, Dr. Cassidy had been a victim. A rare one who had gotten away. And that bastard had found her and gotten her finally. She clenched her fists angrily.

"We would like to move you to a safehouse," Montoya was saying. "At the moment, all safehouses are full, so we will be working for a few days to contact new ones. In the meantime, there will be a patrol at night that will keep watch on your home. They will check on your home and your safety, but in the meantime, we will need you to stay by the phone and call us at a moment's notice if Zsasz should approach you. Can you do that, miss?"

"Yeah," Danielle whispered, barely hearing her over the rushing thoughts.

The hand remained on her shoulder as the officer spoke gently. "Zsasz doesn't let his victims go easily. You will have to be on your guard. Buy some mace or something, teach yourself how to use it, and don't go out after dark. Stay away from dangerous neighborhoods and streets if you can help it. Even if we do move you in the next few days, you will still need to remain on your guard. And it might interfere with you coming to work. Can you understand this?"

_Work. What was she going to do if she lost her work?_ A tear leaked out from the corner of her eye. _Everything was falling apart._

She went back to work shortly after and tried her best to keep up with her work and her co-worker friends. It was very hard; her thoughts wouldn't stop racing, her heart wouldn't slow down. _What was she going to tell her friends? That a homicidal maniac was after her? Yeah – that would make her popular!_ She winced. It crossed her mind to ask one of them if she could stay with them – but what if Zsasz followed her there? The thought made her cringe. What if he killed one of her friends instead? Now she felt sick. Was this really happening to her? Really?

Some of the obsessive thoughts subsided during her lunch with Matthew. He was as sweet and intoxicating as ever.

"What do you like to do in the summertime?" he asked. When he said that, the beach flashed to mind and she blushed. _Matthew in swim trunks..._

"I don't know, I usually work in the summer."

He laughed. "But not the weekends!"

She smiled. "There's this ice cream parlor I've been meaning to check out. It's in Gotham Square, so it'd be a great walk on a hot day…"

"I like mint chip," he said. Her smile grew.

But near the end of lunch, a thought occurred to her, and she almost asked if she could possibly stay with him, since he was bigger and stronger than she was…

The handsome young dead man left on the park bench, along with his golden haired companion, flashed to mind, and she shuddered and did not ask the question.

Matthew didn't ask any more questions about her attacker. He must have forgotten that she was a likely target; if he did, why would he still be so interested in hanging out with her? In possibly – dare she say – dating her? They parted after lunch having not spoken once about Zsasz, and instead with them both looking forward to the Symphony tomorrow night. Only when he walked away did she feel the heaviness return, as well as the paranoia that someone, somewhere, was watching her now.

The feeling went away and came back again at the end of her work shift, as she stood in the doorway ready to leave for the day.

There was no way she could go home. Not after what happened to Dr. Cassidy. Zsasz knew where she lived, for crying out loud! He had attacked both of them in their homes! She needed to clear her head somewhere.

-0-

Oh, it felt nice to be out of the Asylum. To breathe fresh air, surrounded by piggies, all waiting for his salvation. It was getting near that time of year again. Ever since he had "confessed" his story to Batman, during that past cold winter in Arkham City, he'd had a strong desire to go to the Sprang Bridge again, to stand on it and feel the summertime breeze. Maybe he would go sometime soon.

He wore a hood that he had "borrowed" from a homeless man. An unfortunate soul very much like his first mark. This man was now eternally cupping his hands around an unlit cigarette perched between his still lips – until someone found him, that is. Under the hood, no one noticed him. No one could see his marks. He wasn't one to hide them, usually. He didn't want to conceal his work. But secrecy was called for at times, and he wasn't yet ready to return to Arkham Asylum. No, he wanted to avoid the police a bit longer. Not to mention… the Batman.

The grip on his knife tightened. He always kept a knife in his pants.

It was a nice enough day to visit Amusement Mile, he supposed. It was being rebuilt since the months it had spent underwater. There had been a large bayfill project – he wondered if they had extra money since there were fewer inmates to feed in the prisons now. Protocol 10 had taken out a fair number of inmates. Either way, the inmates were six feet under and suddenly Amusement Mile was above sea level. They were making a new pier out there, and maybe eventually they would redo some of the other buildings. He hated this neighborhood. A large casino overlooked its small, unhappy streets. A soul sucking casino, only there to deprive people even faster of their fleeting will to live. Perhaps Firefly should burn it down someday. If he saw him, he might even make him a special request.

Approaching the new docks, he was struck by the piggies sitting idly by. Ahhh, the despair radiated from them. Many of them were there to look for food, to fish – didn't they realize how much pollution was in this water? How many heavy metals found their resting place on the floor of Gotham Bay, left by companies very much like the one his family once owned? Were they trying to poison themselves?

Several homeless drifters. A couple of old women with their small brats. The occasional petty thief looking to pick someone's pocket. He almost wished they would try him. A cold smile lit his face from beneath the hood. He would give them a reward they would never forget – or rather, wouldn't be alive to remember…

There was someone new on the end of the dock. Someone different. A girl.

He walked closer, subtly. Her hair was much too shiny. She wasn't poor, was she? Or rather, not as poor as the others here. What was she doing all the way out here? Was she …lost? Possibly… suicidal? She had on nice clothes. Red nail polish. Long, shiny brown hair…

_Danielle._

He stopped abruptly and his predatory smile grew. She was here. His newest obsession was here. Of course, she could never take Batman's place, but…

He had thought he would wait longer before toying with her. Savor her fear as he broke her life, before taking her, before marking himself with her. But she was here, and that must be a sign. He wondered if she had heard about Dr. Cassidy's recent salvation… Shouldn't she be at home, cowering and fearing for her empty life? He walked closer. Surely it would be easy to drag her into an alley somewhere… Muffle her, scare her for a while, cut her up—

She was laughing.

The zombie was laughing. She seemed …happy.

How was that possible?

_How was that possible?!_ He was furious. She was in perhaps one of the worst neighborhoods in Gotham – even worse, in some ways, than Park Row. At least Park Row was populous. This place was abandoned. People hadn't been here in months, because it was underwater, and then because of Poison Ivy, and people were still hesitant to be out here. She was surrounded by gray people, sad dismal people, possible criminals (and definite ones). The GCPD, in spite of being in this same neighborhood, was several long blocks away. She wasn't safe even remotely. And she knew he was after her.

WHY was she laughing?! What was so damn funny?

He needed to get away. There were too many people around to murder her right now. Well, that wasn't true – but he wasn't in a good place right now to liberate her. With his mood, he would draw unnecessary attention. Better to wait until he felt more in control, at least to capture her. Although… and here a gleeful smile bloomed through the anger… He had to find _some_ way of letting her know he was here…

-0-

The sun was getting lower in the sky. She needed to get home. She knew she wouldn't have a lot of time to enjoy the pier but there was just such a pull to come out here, get her mind off of things after work. And to be truthful, she didn't want to be at home. She knew she'd just sit there feeling like a sitting duck. She was safer out here. No one, especially not Zsasz, would find her here.

It was worth it to come out here today. The seals always cheered her up with their antics. Though today one of the people sitting out had been throwing bread to the seagulls, old bread she guessed, and at some point a seal had decided it wanted to know what the fuss was about. She laughed until her sides ached.

Time to head home.

She was vaguely aware of a commotion around her but didn't think much of it. Not until she nearly stumbled into what they were all talking about. Then she heard the whispers.

"Looks like someone cut his throat."

"What for? Think they stole something?"

"He wasn't here twenty minutes ago..."

"Someone call the police. Where's the nearest payphone?"

A tough-looking guy was slumped on a bench, almost as if he were resting. Except for the cut throat, that is. The blood dripped down like a necklace. Danielle felt her stomach flip and the same dread as the night at the park came rushing back. The dead man was holding a permanent marker, the type a hoodlum might use for tagging. There was something written on the wall he and the bench were leaning against.

Danielle came closer to look, ignoring the whispering among all the onlookers.

'_Zsasz was here.'_

-0-

_Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ Danielle told herself as, mace in hand, she walked home to her apartment. _Didn't Montoya tell me to stay out of dangerous neighborhoods? What was I thinking? _"Where's the eye bleach when you need it?!" she hissed to herself as the images flashed in her mind, as they had been doing for the past hour she had been walking home. Amusement Mile didn't seem as scary to her since she had been exploring the city, but how could she forget? The months that Zsasz spent there and in other places, back when this was still Arkham City? That was his turf! What was she thinking going there? Well, to be truthful, she was thinking about relaxing while watching the seals…

_Ugh!_ Danielle fumbled with her keys. She was unwilling to let go of the mace for even a second. Was that it, then? Was she going to become a recluse, never leaving her apartment? Just waiting there at home, a sitting duck for Zsasz to slash? She shuddered, her mind flashing back to the dead hoodlum near the wharf. There were so many things she hasn't done yet! She was too young to die! Tears gathered in her eyes as it finally sank in what was happening. She was going to die. It was just a matter of time. She would die painfully, in some alleyway with her throat slit, or maybe at home. She had no idea. She didn't know when it would be her last moment. It could be after a bad day at work. It could be when she was out somewhere, trying to relax someplace beautiful. She wouldn't get to see an old age. She wouldn't be able to have a relationship and get married – to Matthew or to anyone else. She wouldn't be here anymore. She would never be able to see the beautiful stained glass windows in the Park Row church ever again.

She could barely eat. She forced down some pasta. Hard to cook it and eat it when she wouldn't let go of the damned mace. Lucky she didn't mace herself with the way her hands were shaking. Couldn't bring herself to put on her music. What could she do? She wanted to call the police. Were they outside her home right now? She hoped so but couldn't bring herself to check, in case they weren't. A few times it crossed her mind that the police were still looking for a safehouse for her. That they could find one and she could get out of here, get to safety. She chased those thoughts out of her head. Why give herself false hope?

She could move. Leave her apartment, find another place to live. See if it would take Zsasz a while to find her. What if she left during a workday, took the day off? He operated at night, right? Wrong, the dead hoodlum was killed today, and it was afternoon. Unless he killed him the night before and then posed him… But no… No, he had looked recently alive. Scrub the memory! She blinked harshly several times.

She could become a nomad. Leave her apartment, wander the city, never stay in the same place. Take her chances that she could keep avoiding him until he was caught and put away. Wasn't there some hotel she could stay in?

She could stay in the church. Pray there, go there every day after work, stay there during her free time, only come home to eat and sleep. No, that was just crazy. He'd get her in her sleep at home. All of this was crazy—

The phone rang. She jumped and almost dropped her mace. She stared at the phone for the longest moment. _Was it Zsasz?_ Her heart thundered. And the phone kept ringing.

She picked up the receiver, keeping the mace in her other hand, darting her eyes toward her window and door. "H-hello?"

"Hey, Dani!"

"Matthew!" she slumped in relief, and involuntarily a smile came to her face, in contrast with her erratic heartbeat. Or perhaps hearing her crush's voice just added to it. "How are you?"

"I am doing very well this evening." He chuckled. "You sound nervous."

"I-I, well, you know—are you looking forward to the Symphony tomorrow night?" she asked, trying to change the subject and calm her heart. She almost set down the mace but then remembered and kept a grip on it. It would be like Zsasz to attack her right now, while her guard was down.

"You bet. I was wondering what your address is? If it's alright with you, I'd like to pick you up tomorrow night and take you."

"You would?" she asked with surprise and delight.

"I'll be by to get you in a cab. 6:15 sharp."

She gave him her address and then hung up, feeling over the moon in contrast to her earlier fears. _No!_ she thought sharply. _I'm not letting Zsasz bring me down right now! Tomorrow night is going to be the best night… Our first real date!_ She quickly went to her closet and, mace in hand, began to choose a dress for tomorrow.

-0-

_Oh god, was it even possible to feel more nervous?_ She wondered. Here they were, in balcony seating, during the intermission, with hundreds of handsomely dressed couples who were obviously on the more affluent end of Gotham, maybe Gotham Heights residents, and she miiiiight have chosen to wear the backless red dress she'd always wanted to wear for such an occasion, in spite of the scars on her back, and her DATE – the shamelessly handsome Matthew – was wearing a tuxedo… and was currently whispering in her ear about some instrument or another down there. _Violin… was he saying that the violin is his favorite…? _ She couldn't tell. There was a strange buzzing in her ears. All she was aware of was his warm breath, puffing softly over her ears and neck, making her fine hairs stand on end. She nearly shuddered at his closeness. And then wondered briefly if he had done this on purpose, knowing the effect he had on her. What was it he had asked last night on the phone? Oh yes – "nervous…?" With that little chuckle in there. Oh yes, he knew what he was doing. That sneak.

Her eyes idly wandered over the balcony and the special boxes for the most esteemed members of the audience. There was Bruce Wayne. The house had announced him earlier and there he was, sitting highly and mightily with a hot blonde model on his arm. Well, she didn't think badly of him totally – his organization was very charitable. But his womanizing habits were infamous!

Finding a point of conversation finally, she turned to share her thoughts on the playboy billionaire with Matthew. He responded in a joking fashion, arguing that with those good looks, why wouldn't he take advantage of them? And they were off into a lively debate that, at least temporarily, calmed her nerves.

-0-

…At least until it was time to go. The second half had been just as beautiful as the first. Amazing how rich the music seemed to her now. While she listened, she almost drifted away, imagining that the music was painting pictures – some obscure ones, and some, not surprisingly, of the places all over Gotham she had been visiting. She could hear the seals barking in the trumpets, the laughter of the fishermen in the tubas, the soothing melody of the waves in the flutes, the beauty of the stained glass windows in the harps. The fear as she ran down the streets within the violins. At one point she pictured Victor Zsasz cutting her throat with a violin bow…

And then the music changed, and with it the disturbing pictures morphed into something nicer and even more bittersweet. Nostalgia.

Her parents. How she missed them. Her family was from another country. She was the only one who had made it over here; her grandmother had been here as well until she had passed away. They were far away, and she knew it would be a while before she saved enough money to go home and visit them. Or maybe she could go back there permanently, anything to get away from Zsasz. But she had nowhere near enough money to get home, and they didn't have money to send her. She missed them.

And when the Symphony ended, the building had erupted into applause. And Matthew had given her a smile that nearly stopped her heart. He put his hand on her bare back, setting her nerves on fire once again, and escorted her out. It was all she could do not to trip over her own feet.

They were outside but still surrounded by crowds. Too many people were between them and the taxis and chauffeured cars. They swayed with the crowd. And then Danielle stopped and stood within the moment.

There was no telling what would happen next. They could date, or she could be gone, or… and here she realized that she couldn't quite push the thoughts out of her head. She could die. It was so possible. Anything was possible right now.

Her hands found Matthew's collar and pulled him down gently. Sparkling blue eyes found hers.

Their lips connected.

Fireworks erupted for her. She breathed softly and felt his lips tighten against hers. What had started as a gentle kiss became passionate. And the world melted away. She could feel his warm hands cradle her back as she cupped his face.

When they came back to the present, a small crowd of people applauded softly. Rather than duck her head in embarrassment, Danielle looked up at Matthew and smiled proudly. He gazed right back at her.

He gave her one more kiss as he dropped her back at home that night. He whispered that he would see her Monday at work, but might call before then. She went to sleep, her purse containing the mace dropped and forgotten on her bedroom floor.

-0-

She didn't have an alarm clock. She usually never needed one… Though it was surprisingly bright out already. What time was it anyway?

Noon, according to the clock on the wall. She'd overslept. Not a problem, since it was Saturday. So then, why was there ringing?

Goddamn phone.

Danielle sat up. Her hair was disheveled. Her pillow was covered with makeup. Her red dress was now wrinkled after a night of sleeping in it. She noticed with some disappointment that, unlike in her dreams, Matthew was not beside her—

Matthew! Maybe that was him!

In her haste to answer the phone, Danielle forgot about her purse. She landed painfully on her knee. "OW!" She crawled over to the phone and picked it up.

-0-

"Hello?" her voice came out almost adorably sleepy. Well, he'd scare her awake.

"Hello, Danielle. Did you have a pleasant night's sleep?" When she didn't answer, he continued, "I'd have thought the… gift I'd left you would have kept you awake, waiting to see if you were next. You'll have all the time in the world to sleep, once I find you again." She didn't answer, but he heard her breathing. "I'll see you very soon, I imagine. Goodbye." He hung up.

-0-

She stared blankly at the receiver as a million images flashed in front of her. Mostly of dead people, and so many of them of his face. His scary eyes. It had been more than a month since she had seen his nightmarish face, the cold, cold look in his eyes., and she definitely never wanted to see his face again. Hearing his voice was bad enough.

The phone rang again. She jumped. Frantically, she ripped out the cord. The phone kept ringing. She screamed and ran to her bed, putting the pillow over her head, covering her ears. And then just as frantically jumped up. No! She had to be on guard. She picked up her purse, pulled out the mace, and sat, with shaking hands, solemnly facing the phone. She didn't pick up. When it stopped ringing, she didn't move from her spot.

Hours later, she hadn't moved, and her phone had rung four more times. Was Zsasz really that persistent? Doubts were starting to creep in. What if it were Matthew calling her? It wasn't easy to even think of Matthew anymore. But she had to be sure. What if it was help calling? Maybe he could help her somehow? She couldn't sit here in front of the phone forever. Sooner or later, she was going to have to move… or die.

The next time her phone rang, she resolutely, though not without fear, picked it up, her grip tightening on the mace.

"Hello?"

"This is Officer Bullock. Is this Danielle?"

"This is. What-?"

"Did you get our call yesterday?"

"Yesterday?" She felt a lead weight drop in her stomach suddenly. "No, Officer, what happened-?"

"We found you a safehouse! You didn't get our message? You've gotta get out of there. The bus leaves in 20 minutes!"

"20 minutes! What do I-?"

"Get packed, don't take much. The bus stops on the corner of 2nd and Grant."

"That's six blocks away!"

"Better hurry. We're not sure how long they'll wait, and you don't wanna miss this bus. Good luck, kid!"

He hung up, and frantically Danielle grabbed the nearest bag she could find, stuffing an outfit, her toothbrush, and her small stash of money inside. Regretfully she looked around her home. She hoped she could come back for her stuff…

She locked the door once she was outside and raced as fast as she could for the corner of 2nd and Grant streets.

6 blocks! How could she have missed their message? She hadn't seen the answering machine blinking. _On second thought, _she thought with a sinking in her gut, she hadn't seen the light on at all on her answering machine… _Had it been turned off? Or… had she ripped out the wrong cord earlier? _That was why her phone had kept ringing!

_5 blocks…_ She ran frantically through the darkening streets. The sun was getting lower in the sky, approaching its setting time, and the air was lit red. The bag slapped against her ribs.

_4 blocks…_ Away from the horrors of the city. Away from the dead bodies Zsasz had left behind. Away from a similar fate. She was going away.

_3 blocks… _Why couldn't she move faster? Why couldn't she fly like Batman? Why did it seem like gravity was against her? It was probably the damn dress she was still wearing. If she ever made it to safety, she would make it a point to add running and working out to her daily routine. _C'mon, she could do this! What would this safe house be like? How long would she be there?_ Thought swirled as she continued to run.

_2 blocks…_ Her lungs were screaming. Blood pounded in her head. 3 minutes left. She had to make it!

Half a block left… She saw the red taillights of the bus. It was just pulling away from the corner, racing away on Grant Street. "Wait!" she tried to scream out, but her voice couldn't work without air. The bus screeched away, leaving her kneeling, exhausted and distraught, on the cold pavement.

She was alone. She was stuck in Gotham City.

-0-

"The girl just called me from a payphone. She didn't make her bus," Bullock hung up the phone, turning to Officer Montoya. The poor girl on the other end had been in tears. He could understand why. She missed the bus to the safehouse. The one place where she was safe from that maniac Zsasz. _Sucks for her, but she should have checked her messages and stayed home, instead of gallivanting around._

"I'll go check on her," Montoya said, looking weary. "We'll put in a request for an escort."

"No good. Her spot's already been filled."

"Just like that?" Montoya asked incredulously. "But she only missed her bus 20 minutes ago!"

"You goin' soft, Montoya?" he asked, fiddling with his toothpick between his teeth. "This is why folks have gotta be on it like cheap cologne. If they miss their chance…"

"This girl's been through a lot," Montoya said angrily. "She's been attacked more times than—And I'm not going soft," she scoffed. "What we've really got to do is catch Zsasz. Has the Commissioner heard anything from—"

"No, nothing from the pointy eared freak."

"Well hopefully the Batman will find something soon. Zsasz's body count is up six since the last time."

"That guy's just lucky. It's our job to catch the criminals." Bullock stood up, donning his holster and pistol. "I'm going for patrol. You coming?"

She shook her head. "I'm going to put in another request for her for a safehouse. I'll stop by her work on Monday and talk to her. Make an extra patrol by her home later tonight, would you?"

"Sheesh. Whatever!" He grabbed a donut on his way out.

-0-

When she got home, her phone was ringing again. Why couldn't she ignore it?

"You tried to run away, Danielle. Are you so afraid of your own salvation?"

"Please," she found herself begging. "Why are you doing this? Please leave me alone. I don't want to die!"

"Leave you alone? Very well, if you insist." Her relief was short-lived. "There's a piggy I can see right now, Danielle."

She choked on her indignation and for a moment felt strong. "You would threaten to kill someone else to replace my mark? You would put this in my hands, my responsibility for killing someone innocent? What kind of—"

"Tall, dark haired, bright blue eyes…" he continued, as if she hadn't interrupted. "The sort of ladies' man _you_ might find attractive, _Dani_." He let out a scary laugh. "I wonder where I should pose him? Perhaps, come Monday, when they come into the surgery room at Gotham General, they'll find him _in_ surgery, instead of doing his usual job in merely assisting."

Danielle nearly died. His words made all too much sense. Her strong anger fled and fearful tears filled her eyes. "Matthew?"

"Yes. That's this piggy's name, isn't it? That's right," he said mockingly, "You know him! Isn't he your boytoy, Danielle?"

Her whole world felt like it was ending. Was this what it felt like to die, while being alive? She took several deep breaths to steady herself. The tears wouldn't stop.

"Let him live," she said very quietly. "You can have me instead."

"So generous, Danielle! And how do you know he is not also worthy of my gift?"

"I'll make it easy for you," she said. "I'll wait right here for you. Please don't hurt him."

"But it's so much more fun when you're afraid," he laughed.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered. "Why do you want to ruin my life?"

"Your life is already ruined," he stated. "I am offering you mercy from your daily grind… _and_ your fear. Imagine if you were to marry your fellow zombie. Then you would spend the rest of your lives afraid of old age, waiting for one of you to die first."

"You're sick, do you know that? Who has time to think of all of this!"

"I would be careful insulting me, Danielle. Your piggy, unlike you, doesn't have police protection waiting outside."

"I have—"

"And if you warn them, if you tell them where I am, then I bleed your piggy. So don't—say—another—word, Danielle…"

She shut her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. "I'll do whatever you want."

"I'm sure you will! I'll see you very soon," he whispered at the end. And then he hung up.

She stared at the blank receiver for a moment. And then, very resolutely, she disconnected her phone.

She didn't remember the hours whiling away as she sat on the floor, despondent. Fear consumed her. If the Scarecrow could have ventured upon her and seen her terror, he would have been sated by it.

The pieces were falling into place for her. It was as if lights were turning on, revealing truths to her.

She had missed the bus. There was no way to leave. She was stuck in Gotham City. Zsasz was going to find her and kill her. The police had not caught him. The police could not prevent him from killing her. Batman could not prevent him from killing her. Her friends could not protect her. Matthew could not protect her either, and now he was in danger. She was alone.

There was no one coming to save her.

How did Batman do it? How did he manage to be so strong? He was stronger than the police, stronger than the law itself. But he was one man.

And then it came to her. It was because Batman relied on himself. He saved himself.

_…That's what she had to do._

The self-defense classes were gone. What was left? How could she do it? How had Batman done it?

Batman wasn't from here. He had been here before she moved to Gotham, but she had heard the rumors and suppositions about him. According to the gossip, he had just appeared in Gotham one year, out of nowhere. Sure it was possible he could have been from here, but she suspected he came from somewhere else. There was no self-defense or martial arts training in Gotham - there couldn't be, or else more people would be doing it, and fewer criminals would be out there.

Maybe the Internet would have some self-defense tips. Grabbing her laptop and her mace, she went into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. It felt safer in there. She loaded the computer and then went on the Internet. What to search for? What did she know about Zsasz?

Search: "how to deal with an attacker with a knife"?

She began to read. Most of what she read was how to deal with a mugger, tips for talking him down. There were no such tips for Zsasz.

_He's going to try to kill me no matter what. Talking won't work, except to delay the inevitable._

_The most vulnerable parts of his body are his eyes, nose, throat, feet, groin, knees… But he'll probably be expecting me to go for those. Didn't any of his victims fight back? But I have to think of a follow-up plan in case…_

_How am I going to disarm him? It's his knives. Those are trouble. How am I going to get away from him?_

She read about disarming knives. The information sounded complicated. "If I ever tried to use a knife on him, he'd laugh at me! He'd gut me so fast… How do I get away from his knife?" Fortunately there were videos online. She watched video after video until the wee hours of the morning, trying to spot and understand the self-defense movements. She vividly remembered his attack on her - here in her very own apartment. Zsasz was fast. She would need to be faster to have a snowball's chance in hell of getting away from him.

Search: "speed training"?

More and more pictures entered her mind about the kind of person she would have to be to defend herself. She would need to be alert, aware, assertive with her survival – and above all, fast.

A plan began to fall into place.

-0-


	9. Chapter 8

- - - - - _Chapter Eight_ - - - - -

_SLASH!_

"AAH!"

"I am your salvation," the madman said. "I am the one who will free you from this mortal coil as I cut you and pour rivers of blood from your empty guts. I will mark my flesh with your life! I will dedicate my flesh, my temple, to your sacrifice!"

Another slash. The woman screamed again. Her hands were covered with blood. One large cut just above her heart was doing most of the gushing, but there were other cuts, in her shoulders, along her arms where she had tried to raise them to defend herself. It never worked. He would cut them, and the pain would be overwhelming. Oh, some "lucky" piggies had gotten away. He didn't consider them lucky. He went after some of them, but some of them weren't even worth his frustration. They bored even him.

"I am saving this spot on my skin for your mark," he whispered above her screams. "Soon, soon you will be freed and your mark will freshly bleed. You will not be forgotten!"

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!"

Zsasz cut her throat, and there was a gurgle. He never tired of hearing it. Her final song. The woman slumped forward, dead. He took the knife, now red with her blood, and plunged it into his flesh that tingled for the mark.

He didn't know her name. Her red hair soaked up the blood from the cold pavement. Oh, it had been a warm day, a cloudless evening, and the heat had gone hours ago with the sun. This woman had foolishly chosen to walk home through an alleyway close to Crime Alley. Lucky he had been there. She wouldn't have to suffer anymore.

Now it was time to leave the scene. No sense in letting the police have a good day.

-0-

"Hey Lily, is Dani here yet?" Cindy asked her friend and coworker on Monday morning.

"I think I saw her heading to the bathroom," the strawberry blonde replied.

"I'm worried about her," Cindy said without preamble. "I ran into her yesterday at a fabric store. She looked—I don't know, sad or something. Or like she hadn't slept."

"Did she say anything?"

"No, she just asked my help in picking out some thick fabric and other stuff. Said she was going to practice sewing."

Lily looked concerned. "Do you think something happened with her and Matthew?"

"What about Matthew?" Deirdre asked as she came in. "Something up between him and Danielle?"

"We don't know. Hey, here she comes!" The girls quickly went back to what they were doing as Danielle entered the files room.

"Hi Dani!" Lily said with her usual cheerfulness. Danielle looked startled, but then gave a quick smile and answered her friend's greeting.

"It was good to see you yesterday, Dani," Cindy chimed in.

As Danielle turned to talk to Cindy, Lily stole a quick glance at Cindy and exchanged a look. She could see the dark bags under Danielle's eyes. Something was off with her.

-0-

The warm liquid dripped slowly from the rag. Nothing like a warm bath upon waking up. He used a bucket because he couldn't find a more appropriate thing to bathe in. The water surrounding his hideout was too hot and likely laden with chemicals. No need to risk distorting his neat handiwork, his scars, with said chemicals. The red liquid, once clear, slid back into the bucket. It was better than nothing. And he didn't mind the lingering smell of blood.

He knew he would have to move hideouts soon. Of course, he wasn't foolish enough to come back to the same hideout that the Batman had found him in during his time in Arkham City. He knew the Bat would search it again. But it didn't mean there weren't other properties close by, others that the Broker could still recommend. And they hadn't yet rebuilt most of the Industrial District. Perhaps they were superstitious. He had heard more than a few whispers that the clown wasn't dead.

"But the Batman saw him," he spoke out loud to himself. "They say the Batman killed him. Has he graduated to killing, then? His mood was… _different_ the last time I saw him, in that hospital. Good. That would just make it more satisfying to kill the Batman!"

_Time to wash the blood off my shoulders… _He usually missed a spot or two on his back. No matter. He was careful enough that no one noticed him usually, until it was too late.

He wanted to capture Danielle. Torture her for days the way he had those other prisoners in Arkham City. He would be able to send pieces of her to the police if he wanted to. It had been so long since he held a captive. Quick kills were wonderful, as always, but sometimes, if the person was special, they could make his enjoyment last a long time, as long as they lasted.

And Danielle was certainly… special.

_Soon, my piggy._

-0-

She had found an abandoned place without trouble. It was easy considering how much time she had spent exploring Gotham City. This particular home was about twenty blocks from her apartment – close enough to run home, far enough away to avoid Zsasz in case he stalked her apartment. She had to be on guard. He was coming after her. She knew it.

It was only a matter of time before he found her. She'd have to face him someday.

The first time she went there to practice, she left home at 5AM, three hours before her work shift. Zsasz had found her by following her home _after_ work one day. He had been out killing the park bench couple in the early _evening_, same with the hoodlum at the docks. She guessed that he was an _afternoon-evening_ killer. Hopefully not a morning person. Hopefully he wouldn't find her hideout if she left her apartment for there early in the morning, instead of going there after work.

She didn't have the time to make a practice dummy yet, though she hid the fabric, thick needles, and thick thread in the abandoned place. She raided the trashcans behind the pubs for bottles, found a baseball bat somewhere, a stick from a broom somewhere else. She spent hours practicing, smashing broken bottles with her tools, from different distances. Her aim improved. She felt best with the long broomstick. It increased the distance between her and the target – in Zsasz's case, it would increase the distance between her and his knives. Unless he threw them. Now how was she going to be ready for that?

She carefully cleaned up the glass when she was done. The experience taught her to wear gloves.

She jumped rope. It got her strength and endurance up.

Anytime she felt too tired to continue, a quick flash of Zsasz's victims through her mind shot up her adrenaline and she kept going. She was _not_ going to die!

She kept her mace on her wherever she went.

She pretended nothing was wrong at work. She was sure no one noticed. She had kept her word. She didn't tell Matthew or the police about Zsasz's threat. And each day, when Matthew came to work, she breathed a sigh of relief. Looked like Zsasz had kept his word too ...for now.

She talked to Matthew at night when she was home, and as soon as she was done, she unplugged her phone and lay on her bed, dreaming about him. His voice sounded so good, and many times she thought that as soon as Zsasz was taken care of, she could invite Matthew back to her place. So far they had gone on walks in the hospital neighborhood, around one of the parks, and gotten ice cream together twice. Maybe she could go to his house instead, someday soon. Maybe if it was only once, Zsasz wouldn't find them, and she could spend the whole night in his arms. But she couldn't risk it! She couldn't risk Matthew... though didn't Zsasz already know where he lived?

When she was talking to her dream boy and going on about meaningless things, she almost forgot about the danger she was in. But the long stick in her hand always kept her aware of her surroundings.

Wednesday. No longer a random day of the week. A precious day. Every day she was alive was precious. How could she protect herself from Zsasz? It had been four days since his phone call.

What could she carry with her that wouldn't attract attention, aside from mace? Could she carry a cane? People would wonder what was up. An umbrella? It was summer. A baseball bat? Hah, tell people she was on the little league team? Hmm…

-0-

It had been a week since the piggy had missed her bus. He had called her again on Wednesday night, but her phone was disconnected. She should know better than to ignore him. He had tried so hard to get her off his mind for a few days – focused on fresh zombies – but he couldn't help it. He always came back to think about The One Who Got Away.

It was going to make killing her so much more fun.

He strolled leisurely through an alleyway, much like the one in which he had killed the redhead so recently. The sun was still high in the sky. But she was due home any minute now from her mundane little job.

He watched her on her lunch break at work, coming home from work. He noticed more than once how close she seemed with that tall, strapping man, that Matthew. He saw them kiss. So, this was where his piggy was getting her strength to ignore him. From new love.

It wouldn't last. Those fresh feelings never do. He had seen it enough times; when the breakups happened, oh, what better time to ease their pain than then? When the jilted lover stood, on a balcony or somewhere equally high, or perhaps on a pier or a bridge overlooking the water – a little like he had. Or even at home, crying their eyes out. They never saw him coming, and some of them didn't seem to care when he first appeared. The fleeting feelings of love were gone, and they no longer felt alive. But none of them ever realized that the feelings themselves were an illusion. Love was never there. Infatuation, perhaps. But how could they love each other? They didn't even know each other, they could barely see each other… They couldn't see the truths about their lives. They were just desperately clinging together, searching for meaning in _each other_. How…sad.

Danielle seemed happy with her boytoy, her little piggy. He seemed happy with her, but Zsasz had already begun to see the emptiness in the boy's eyes. He was already growing bored with Danielle – or perhaps not with her, exactly. Bored with his own mortality. Forgetting why he was alive. The newness no longer gave him "meaning".

And then it happened. One day, Danielle did not see her Matthew at work even once. No morning hello, no lunch together, no sickeningly sappy long kiss after work or walking together somewhere. No interaction whatsoever. Had it happened already? Had she already lost her new "meaning"?

He observed her carefully. He didn't want to attack yet, oh no. He wanted to see Danielle at her very worst, so that then he could give the girl her well-earned salvation. After abducting and torturing her first, of course. It was now three days since he had seen her with her boytoy, and she hadn't broken down yet. Wait… was that sadness in her eyes? A longing look in the direction of their lunch spot? Did this confirm it?

He got his confirmation on Friday when he saw his piggy's piggy leave – but not alone. Oh no, her piggy's new happy companion was another girl with dark red hair. Come to think of it, wasn't she one of Danielle's fellow work zombies? Her boytoy seemed awfully comfortable with this new girl…

He smirked. So, Danielle had gotten replaced. He wondered if she knew.

Judging by the way Danielle watched them leave together, _oh yes_, she knew.

-0-

"I'm telling you, Elaine, I'm fine!"

"That's not what a little bird named Lily told me. Is what I heard about that Matthew fellow true, darlin'? That he was using you and has already moved on to another tart?"

"Is that what Lily said?"

"Is it true? Dani, Lily said that he's seeing Deirdre now. Like, your-work-buddy-Deirdre!"

"Shhh! You don't have to talk so loud." Danielle relented, "Yes, he's seeing Deirdre." The pain flashed back, and her friend could see her dismay. It had broken Danielle's heart when he broke up with her at lunch last week. It was out of nowhere and needless to say, she hadn't been able to eat after that. _What had she done? Why was he going away?_ Matthew had smiled and simply told her he had a good time with her, but it was time to move on. It was so much more painful than she could have imagined. On the one hand, she hoped that it would mean he was safe, that he would no longer be a target for Zsasz. Maybe she had been selfish to hang onto him for so long. On the other hand, it killed her to know that he was finished with her. Though he had offered that they could still be friends. A few days later, the reason for their breakup became apparent. Matthew stopped by the office – but not for her. Instead, a blushing Deirdre left on his arm. Danielle was crushed. "He just came in one day a few days after breaking it off with me, and she left in giggles with him. Giggles!"

"Oh honey…" the nurse rubbed the file monkey's back. "Now, given how close they've become all of the sudden, I wouldn't be surprised if there were something going on beforehand. So maybe he was being a rat and two-timing you-"

"It doesn't matter anymore-" _Because Zsasz is gonna kill me no matter what I do, and right now I need to focus on staying alive, and plus maybe now Zsasz won't kill him, even though – I can't believe that jerk broke up with me!_ "-They're together, and I'm not. I'm not in the couple anymore…" she said sadly. _Could she even call what they had had a relationship?_ she wondered. It had been less than three weeks since their first kiss, five weeks since they began eating lunch together. Maybe she had come on too strong?

"I wouldn't give them a month!" the nurse stage-whispered fiercely. "They'll get tired of each other. A man like that? It'd be one thing if he wanted to date around and broke up with you – though I'd still think he should say outright at the beginning that he wants to be casual. But to then move on with one of your coworkers? One of the three people you have to see day in and day out? And what about her?" She scoffed picturing the interloper.

"Well," Danielle rolled her eyes a little. "Apparently, according to both Matthew and our boss, she's the greatest since sliced bread. Did you know she's been named Employee of the Month for her 'exceptional' database skills? Y'know, the ones I taught her?"

"Oh please! Lily and Cindy think she's a raging whore!"

"Whoa! Lily and Cindy said that?! _You_ said that?! So unprofessional," Danielle teased.

"She knew how you were in love with him for months, and just like that she goes with him not even a week after your breakup, right there in your face! That's just tasteless! How dare they?!"

"Shhh…" Danielle's eyes darted around the crowded corridor, careful that no one was overhearing them or standing too close. "I've already cried myself to sleep three times this week. I don't need to make tonight number four."

"You have to let it out! All these feelings, repressed, it's not good for you!"

Danielle thought wistfully of her newly-finished punching dummy at the abandoned place, but she already knew she didn't want to punch anything. All she really wanted was for Matthew to wrap his arms around her, kiss her, admit he made a mistake, and ask for her back. She would give herself to him without a second thought.

"Don't worry about it. It sucks, but what can I do? I guess I learned my lesson about dating coworkers, huh?" She was clearly putting on a brave face. Somewhere deep inside that she wasn't acknowledging right then, it was still raw.

Elaine sighed sympathetically. "Especially not handsome ones. Douchebags, all of them."

"Ahem, I couldn't help but overhearing, may I cut in?" Danielle jumped as Mrs. Phillips made her presence known. _Stupid!_ she cursed at herself. As they had moved through the main lobby, Danielle hadn't been aware that they were standing at Mrs. Phillips' desk. _I need to be more mindful of my surroundings! Who knows who could have been standing behind me!_

She gave a polite smile to Mrs. Phillips, who wore a look of grandmotherly concern. Her heart swelled for her concerned friends.

"I had heard about what happened, my dear, and unfortunately I have seen them about. Is there anything we can do?" She could see the young woman trying to hold it together in front of them. It appeared that Danielle was not as indifferent as she was pretending.

"Yes," Danielle said, relieved to change the subject. "I've been meaning to ask you two anyway… It's almost summertime now. Another week, and it will be the solstice. Do you guys want to have a girls' night out sometime? Or a girls' day, if you'd prefer a weekend in the Gotham daylight," she chuckled. "We could get some ice cream somewhere, window shopping, maybe go to the botanic gardens? It's one of my favorite spots."

"I will have to think about it," said the secretary, intentionally letting the subject of Matthew drop in spite of Nurse Elaine's enthusiasm. _Let us give the poor girl a respite._ "Though I think I've told you, I have a phobia of greenhouses. More specifically, a fear of Poison Ivy. But consider me open to a night on the town…"

"Count me in too, darlin'!" Elaine said happily. She pointed a gloved finger at Danielle. "If you ever need to talk about that boy and his new floozy, let me know!" She kept talking even as she backward-walked toward the elevators to return to her shift. Mrs. Phillips adjusted her glasses and resumed her paperwork.

Danielle smiled at them and continued making her way out of the hospital. Her shift was over half an hour ago. Of course, she had already seen Matthew leave with Deirdre. It still hurt. She wondered what they were doing now. She wondered if they had kissed yet… or other things. It hadn't been a week yet, and they were already so cozy!

Enough! Time to get her mind off things. One trip to the Zayne Botanic Gardens, coming right up!

And then, _training._

-0-

Perfect. He had seen the glimmer of despair in her eyes. She was inevitably breaking down. Now would be the perfect time.

He watched her cross the street and go inside of the botanic gardens. His skin sang. It was time to collect her mark.

-0-

Orchids. Bright colors. Sad thoughts. No time to be sad. She couldn't help it. He wasn't here. They were probably having sex.

Danielle knew she was alone in the greenhouse. The keeper had noticed her sad mood. He'd gotten used to her visits and had respectfully put down his rake and tools and gone to another part of the botanic gardens for the moment, giving her space. She was grateful.

She noticed his rake briefly. A long handle, just like the broomstick she used. Why didn't she add a rake to her practice? Could help to have those prongs on one end to keep an attacker off-guard.

All her newfound strength wouldn't bring back Matthew. What did he see in Deirdre anyway?

Did she scare him off by changing too much? Had Zsasz changed her?

A blade touched Danielle's throat.

He was right behind her! Her attacker was here, and he already had her! It was already too late. She froze and for a long second, before she exhaled, the fear made her feel she was already a ghost.

"I can see the veins in your neck, calling out for my knife. Oh, little Danielle… I have waited weeks for you!"

Tears stung her eyes as she realized that she hadn't even had a chance to fight back.

A rough hand caressed her face. She could feel Zsasz's chest against her back, his breath on her hair.

"You can cry, I don't mind. No one will see. We're all alone. Give yourself over to your despair. I know what your boytoy did to you, Danielle. It's OK to want to die now! Where is your song now, Danielle?"

She began to panic.

Zsasz, for his part, stood silently, intoxicated by her smell. Her shampoo, mixed with sweat and fear. He looked down the back of her head, could see the tiny scars littering her neck and - he guessed - further along her back muscles. He longed to admire his handiwork and pull down her shirt to see if there was a scar on her upper arm, left by his scalpel. The thought exhilarated him. Here she was, in his grasp!

"Do you think I will kill you quickly? I won't!" he laughed, and then his voice hardened. "Start walking!"

She felt a second knife in her back. He forced her forward, step by agonizing step. _I have to calm down... Think! What am I gonna do?_ As they walked, she passed by the rake leaning against the wall. _I can't grab it, he'll stab me. If I try to make him move the knife at my throat, he'll stab me in the back... But if I fall to my left, I'll get cut a little, but not enough. I'll get away from the knife!_

Zsasz was saying something when Danielle stumbled and immediately threw herself to the ground. Zsasz's body jerked from trying to hold her, and the knife made a thin line on the left side of her throat. At the same time she raised her hands to block him, then scrambled to her feet, grabbing the rake.

Zsasz stopped.

"Get away from me, you freak!" Danielle spat. She had assumed an alarmingly strong stance against him. Zsasz wondered where her sudden determination had come from. Blood dripped on her shirt collar.

"You're bleeding! I'll bet your blood is sweet."

Danielle made a swiping motion with the rake. Zsasz barely flinched.

"You're standing too far away. Silly girl." He took a predatory stance with both knives.

Danielle took a step back, still raising the rake. Zsasz came forward suddenly with a quick cutting motion. Danielle kept the rake between herself and him and moved backward as quickly as she could.

They stopped for a moment, at a standstill - when suddenly Zsasz threw his knife and with a cry, Danielle barely dodged. The blade cut through a bromeliad leaf before landing on the ground. In that moment Danielle was tempted to pick up his knife... But instead she kept her eyes focused on Zsasz. He was twitching with energy. She was definitely out of her league. _Time to get out of here!_

She swung with her rake again, and this time Zsasz actually flinched, standing closer as he was. He wasn't expecting her follow-through. Abruptly, the girl turned, ran, and smashed the rake through one of the greenhouse panes. The sound of shattering glass filled the air. Danielle dove out of the greenhouse, ignoring the jagged glass ripping at her clothes, and she ran outside to safety still clutching her rake.

Before Zsasz could follow her, sudden vines wrapped around his torso, and to his shock, he found himself staring into the face of an angry, nymph-like beauty. _Beauty? So this was the pheromone spell the other inmates were talking about,_ he thought. The woman glared at him ominously, fire-red hair framing her wild face.

He clenched his knife harder, and the woman merely laughed.

"You think you can make me bleed with your crude tools?" she said haughtily. "I do not bleed, you filthy meatsack!"

He saw through her translucent green skin. Her veins were filled with green chlorophyll. Zsasz shuddered. He knew her "blood" was pure poison.

"Let me go," he said, his voice becoming higher, "I promise, I won't interfere with your plants, Poison-"

"My babies!" she wailed, and her voice sounded strangely disembodied, as if her plants were sharing her anguish. "You hurt my babies!" One of her vines snaked out and cradled the leaf that Zsasz's blade had severed earlier. Her expression hardened. "I let you go now only because you are a fellow Arkham inmate, and because you are useful. You also dispose of the filth of humanity..." One of the vines traced his tally marks, and Zsasz almost shuddered with delight before catching himself. "This is a one-time courtesy I extend to you. But set foot in here again!..." At this, two enormous plants - _where had they come from?_ - with razor sharp teeth leaned down and opened their mouths wide. Poison Ivy smirked.

"Now get out!" With that, Zsasz found himself flying through the air, breaking through another pane of glass. He crashed on the grass outside and saw people walking by stop and look to see him. One person screamed, and in the ensuing chaos, Zsasz hauled himself to his feet and ran. It wasn't hard. He was good at getting away.

He looked around as he ran. Danielle was nowhere in sight, and it was Poison Ivy's fault for detaining him. Made him want to set fire to the greenhouse. Or double-dare Firefly to do it.

"Another time _...Danielle_," he whispered to himself.


End file.
